Alright
by Halgerd
Summary: A story about George and Angelina coming together after the war. Hearts are healed, and old friends become lovers. Will George be able to move on past the death of his twin? Chapter 5 is up! But its undecided whether it is complete or not!
1. Chapter 1

Alright

She saw him first after the funeral, and it jarred her. She thought he was Fred. Of course, Angelina knew the differences between the two: their freckles were different, and George smiled with wide eyes while Fred narrowed his. But no one was smiling now, and for a second she was confused. For a second she thought she had Fred back—and just as quickly she realized that wasn't possible, and it was only George.

Angelina was upset, but then again, so was everyone else. George was beyond upset, he simply wasn't there. It was as if a part of his self was gone—because it was. Even the continual tears of poor Molly didn't compare to the grating effect of looking at George. He was making everyone uncomfortable, if he had cried at least people would have understood. His silence was unnerving everyone, and as a result he was standing in alone in a corner, ignoring (or being ignored—Angelina couldn't tell) the rest of the mourners.

Her heart ached, and she gravitated towards George almost unconsciously.

"Hello." He said formally, looking straight past her. Angelina didn't even think he recognized her.

"George?" She replied, touching his arm lightly. He jumped back—clearly no one had touched him in a while. Hardly surprising, considering he looked like the walking dead.

"Oh, sorry Angelina," he said, scanning her quickly, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the wall, "I didn't notice it was you".

"S'okay". She shrugged. He would not meet her eye, and after a minute the silence was becoming awkward. Not for George, because he went back into himself, but for Angelina it was horrifying. They used to be friends, teammates, and now—no w he wouldn't even look at her.

"It was a beautiful service." She said flatly, for lack of anything else to say.

"Was it?" George snapped, his eyes filled with annoyance. "Good to know that something beautiful came out of my brother dying. Thanks so much Angie."

Now it was her turn to be angry. She grabbed onto his forearm, and whispered harshly into his ear:

"Don't you _dare _imply that this situation is anything but appalling for everyone in this room. Don't you _dare_ imply that I'm not screaming on the inside just like you are. Don't you _dare_ George. Don't you _dare. _Fred is gone, you acting with meanness isn't making it any easier_._"

She seemed to reach him, on some level at least. He dropped his anger, going back to the state of nothingness he was in before. It injured her to see him like this, and she fought back tears. She put her hand in his and took up a place beside him against the wall.

"I'm sorry Angelina," he whispered softly after a couple of minutes, "its just been a walking nightmare. I keep waiting to wake up, but I cant. I just cant."

She squeezed his hand tightly, letting him know that she was here for him. She wanted to communicate to him that he wasn't the only one who felt this way. That everyone was wondering how life would continue, how life _could_ continue after the losses suffered.

"It's alright George. Its alright." She cooed, stepping closer to him, letting him know he can lean on her, emotionally and physically.

He looked at her, his eyes leaking a single pair of tears.

"Is it alright?" His voice was hopeless.

The next time she saw him was almost a month later. Angelina had thought of him often, the funeral being etched in her memory. She had stayed with him for the remainder, moving him closer to the rest of his family, allowing him to at least acknowledge some of the mourners.

She had thought he could handle it—he couldn't. The second he saw Katie Bell, Lee Jordan and Oliver Wood walk towards him, he lost it. He squeezed her hand, _hard_, and looked at her with panic stricken eyes. She could see that he was about to cry.

Thinking as fast as she could Angelina pulled George off to the side while at the same time flashing an apologetic gesture towards Katie, Lee and Oliver. They seemed to understand, and moved on to comfort the rest of the Weasley family.

He made it all the way to the parking lot before he started crying. She sat with him on the curb, holding onto him as he cried, wishing there was something she could do, knowing there wasn't anything to be done. Tears started to leak out of her own eyes. She didn't know how long they sat together, but by the time Ginny found them everyone had cleared out. George had calmed down considerably, and Angelina could trust leaving him in the care of his sister.

"Thanks for looking out for him, please don't be a stranger." Ginny whispered into her ear as she hugged Angelina goodbye. "You're the first person he's spoken too since—since—since it happened."

Angelina smiled and hugged Ginny again.

"He'll be alright." Angelina said.

"I hope so." Replied Ginny doubtfully.

After she hugged Ginny, Angelina went and embraced George. She held him tightly, and he held her in kind. After about a minute, he kissed her on the forehead, said 'thank you' in a whisper and walked off with his little sister.

The next day she'd gotten an owl at her flat:

_I won't ever be able to thank you enough. I know you miss him too._

_ -George _

But after the owl there wasn't any other communication from him. She'd been over to Weasley Wizard Wheezes a couple of times, but had only run into Percy. She'd let him know how she was, asked about his family, and told him to give them all her best.

She saw him again on Diagon Alley. Angelina had been trying to find a job. She'd left the job she had had after school on account of the war and was eager to fill her days with something other than contemplating how sad she was. Everyday was a struggle, and she hadn't lost any relatives. She couldn't even imagine how the Weasleys, Denis Creevey or Andromeda Tonks were coping.

She saw him leaving Flourish and Blotts, his hands full of ink and parchment.

"George?" she ventured, trying to catch his attention. His eyes were downcast and he seemed intently focused on the ground in front of him.

"Oh, hey Angie. How have you been?" He looked better than at the funeral, but this wasn't exactly a compliment. He was gaunt, shaggy and unmistakably sad.

"I'm alright, looking for a job actually. You? Um, how's the family?" She didn't want to push him, the last thing she wanted to do was to upset him.

"Oh, um," he stammered, "I haven't really talked to them since…the f—funeral. But I think they are okay. Mum sends food to my flat twice a week."

It pained her that he wasn't talking to his family, especially now when they needed him more than ever. She couldn't even imagine poor Molly, dealing with the death of one son and the mental breakdown of another.

"Oh—um, well—at least you're okay. You still living above the store?" she asked innocently, wanting to change to a less painful subject.

The second she asked the question she knew it had been the wrong one. George balled his fist, and his face went tense, as if he was in excruciating pain.

"No," he eked out, "I—I can't live there. I moved, or, I'm staying somewhere else for now. Just around the corner from Madame Milkins. Its just—Its just too hard to be where…where he…"

"Oh, Georgie, I'm sorry. I'm being such a git about this. Of course you wouldn't want—I mean—it would be awful for you to have too—I'm just glad you are alright."

"Yeah," he looked at her, a faint ghost of a smile on his face. It wasn't a smile exactly, but it wasn't the painful grimace he'd been wearing for a month, "you _are_ being a git about this."

She punched him playfully. It wasn't like it was before, back when everything was alright, when Fred was alive. But, it was much better than the fiasco at the funeral.

She was supposed to see about a job in a few more places today. But the thought of leaving George here on the road and not seeing him for another month was unbearable. They had been too close in school, you couldn't just erase that bond. So Angelina stopped worrying about 'suppose to' and instead she said,

"Want to go for a drink George?"

"Um, sure. Why not?" He was surprised, but pleasantly so. He'd always liked Angelina, and it made him happy to think some part of the good old days. Besides, if he went back to his flat he would just cry, like he always did, and this seemed like a better alternative. All he'd done the last month was ignore his families visits and owls and cry. This was the first time he'd left the house in ten days, he could only imagine how he looked.

They went to the Leaky Cauldron. They bought each other fire-whisky, but they didn't speak. It wasn't an awkward silence, but it wasn't exactly a comfortable silence either.

"What is all the parchment and ink for?" She asked to break up the silence.

Once again, she had asked the exact wrong question. She seemed to have a knack for making this situation as horrible for George as possible. His jaw tightened again and he looked at the floor.

"Its alright George, you don't have to tell me," she backpedaled immediately, "really, it's not a big deal at all—"

"I write him letters." George interrupted her, raising his hand to stop her from apologizing. "I—I write letters to Fred. Mostly—mostly I yell at him, tell him how angry I am at him. I tell him—" he heaved, Angelina could see his eyes were filling with tears, "—I tell him I'll never forgive him for dying. I tell him I hate him for not being here, for leaving me here to deal with his absence."

He was shaking, trying so hard not to cry in public. However, his trying not to cry was attracting far more attention than if he had actually _been_ crying.

After taking a second to mentally berate herself for doing this to him _again_, she slapped down the sickles for their drinks on the bar, grabbed his hand and dragged George back onto the road. It occurred to her that they had left George's supplies behind, but it was too late now. She'd replace them. Before he could refuse her, she apparated them both to just outside Madame Milkins.

George, realizing what had happened (and still heaving), looked up and recognized where they were. He made to break off from her and head back to his flat, but Angelina wouldn't have it.

"Where is your flat?" she asked, squeezing his hand tightly. She could see that he was gearing up to say she could just go and leave him. "And don't even think it, you are in no condition to be alone right now. The least I can do is keep you company, I owe you that since I apparently am just heinous with social conversation." She smiled, and he pointed down the alley towards his flat.

Off they walked, and the closer they got, the more Angelina grew concerned about where George was living. They were getting further and further from Diagon Alley, and it wasn't exactly seedy, but it wasn't exactly the Minister of Magic's Mansion either.

But nothing prepared her for what his flat looked like on the inside. It was essentially a disaster zone, there was a kitchen, a sofa, and a variety of clothes and trash on the floor and that's all.

Angelina was appalled. She pointed towards the sofa with a 'lie down' gesture, and George obeyed. Within fifteen minutes he was asleep, and Angelina took to cleaning. There were letters to Fred scattered everywhere. Most of the pages were tear stained. She tried not to read, but the few sentences she absorbed on accident made little sense to her and came across as sad and nothing else. She placed the letters in a pile on the kitchen counter and kept cleaning. She folded all his clothes, took out the trash, scrubbed and folded and made his flat look at least remotely presentable. Once she had finished cleaning, she set too cooking, which woke him up.

"You don't have to do that. You didn't have to clean either." George yawned, looking highly embarrassed.

"Oh stop it. Don't be ridiculous. Its not awful to let someone do something nice for you once in a while. Come here and eat something."

They ate, and talked a little bit. Mostly they just sat there, comforted by each other's presence. After they ate, they did the dishes together, and then sat on the sofa, George's feet on Angelina's lap.

"You know," Angelina began, not even knowing when the idea popped into her head but realizing it was a good one, "my flat is pretty big, I have a spare bedroom and everything."

"Yeah? So? Gloating are we?" George half smiled, for a moment looking less withdrawn than usual.

"No, no. I mean, well, this place isn't exactly glorious, and I know I'd love some company, especially after—after everything…" She smiled at him.

"What are you asking?" He looked distrustful, as if she were making fun of him.

"Will you move in with me? Be my roommate?" She wanted him to agree, although she didn't know if he would. She just couldn't bare the thought of him being in this terrible flat alone for days on end with no company and no one to look after him.

"I don't know if that's a good idea. I'm…sort of a mess right now." He was embarrassed again, looking away from her and gesturing to his sad apartment.

"Well, I'd rather you be with someone and a mess than alone and a mess. Besides, this way I can be at ease, knowing that you aren't starving to death here because you forgot to feed yourself." She was beaming down at him, enamored with her own solution to get George back on track.

"Hey, stop teasing." He punched her playfully in the shoulder. George was afraid she didn't realize how unwell he really was. How he spent almost all of his day crying or shaking or writing angry letters to Fred. But, he really didn't want to be alone anymore either. He'd always been ½ of a whole, and now he was just…nothing. At leas this way he'd be something.

He moved in with her the next week.

George was right, Angelina had no idea how bad he really was.

For the most part, he tried to keep it together around Angelina, and for the most part he succeeded. But sometimes Angelina would come home from work (she got a lower level job at the Ministry) and see that he had been crying, or he would be shut up in his room and not emerge until the next day. When George was upset Angelina just tried to stay out of his way, make sure he didn't need anything, and let him be alone to grieve. She grieved too, of course.

Some days she would have to go someplace quiet where she could cry on her own, missing Fred and wishing he was still alive. But then she'd snap out of it, because of course Fred was dead, quite dead, and it was George that needed her now. She needed to grieve, but she didn't need to grieve in his presence.

He had his good days, but they were few and far in between. But on the good days he would smile, help her cook or clean, even try to make a joke or too. But it was clear that his old personality was no longer present. Whether it was gone for good or not Angelina didn't know, and she tried really hard not to think about it. She felt like, for good or ill, she was working towards something, and that something was getting George to resemble some element of his former self. It might be futile, but it was better than lamenting or crying over the war and over Fred.

As much as she thought she was prepared, sometimes it still upset her how awful George still was. On his bad days she'd be worse, secretly having her insides ripping apart at watching him so heartbroken. He'd lock himself in his room, inconsolable, and she'd have to leave the flat. Sometimes she'd go visit Katie Bell or drop by Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, others days she'd take a walk, other days she'd just cry until she felt better.

Both she and George were struggling, but she'd like to think they were struggling together.

Angelina was wandering around the flat one morning, about a month after George had moved in, over two months since Fred had died. George was steadily getting better, or so it appeared to Angelina. He started helping out at the shop again two days a week, he was speaking to his mother at least once a week (Angelina made sure of it) and Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny had even come by the flat a couple of times. He'd stopped writing angry letters to Fred, he'd stop staring into space and he'd put on some weight. He was by no means his former self, but he was better—she'd even convinced him to let her cut his hair.

But all of this came crashing down when Angelina heard George start sobbing from his room. He still cried—they both did—but it hadn't been a daily occurrence anymore, and as she neared his door she realized George was sobbing and dry heaving rather than merely crying.

"Georgie?" she knocked, opening the door slightly and peeking inside. George was lying on his bed, in the fetal position, in only his boxers, a piece of paper clutched in his hand. Some of the boxes they'd collected from the Weasley's last week had been kicked over onto the floor and their contents were spread everywhere. As Angelina headed towards the bed she quickly glanced at the contents of the boxes.

She knew instantly why he was upset—the things were Freds. Not Georges. They had taken the wrong boxes by mistake. Sprawled all over the room were the remnants of Fred's life: photos, school books and parchment, clothes, knick knacks and childhood toys. No wonder he was upset.

"George, I—I—" she reached for him, but did not know what to do. He was shaking and sobbing still, curled up in a ball. He glanced at her and shoved the paper into her hand.

As she read it, tears began rolling down Angelina's face.

_G,_

_ Sorry I was such a git today. I was way out of line. You were right—sometimes my head is severely imbedded in my arse. Anyways, sorry twin. _

_ F_

"What—what was it about? The fight you had?" Angelina asked, as she sat on the bed, her nearness having some calming effect on George.

"I—I don't remember. A girl? Maybe. I—" sob, "I have no idea." Sob. "I just—I just feel like I'm coping with it, like I'm" sob "getting better, and then I see something trivial that reminds me he's gone and I just—I just—". Angelina placed the paper on the floor and laid down on the bed to face George, putting her hands around his face.

"George," she spoke softly, tears still leaking out of her eyes, "listen to me. You can't keep doing this to yourself, you just cant. He's gone George, he's gone. And no matter how upset you get—he's not coming back. Don't you see? You're _killing _yourself doing this. I miss him too, and I miss him everyday. And I know its not the same, I know that. But don't make the mistake of thinking you are the only one that misses him, because you aren't."

She was stroking his face, and that in combination with her words had calmed George down considerably. He wasn't shaking or crying anymore, and he seemed to be simply withdrawn. They lay together for ages, Angelina wasn't sure how long exactly, but for once the silence between them was completely relaxed and comfortable.

That is until he kissed her.

It was a simple, quick kiss. George just put his hands on Angelina's face, mirroring her hands on his face, and put his lips to hers. It happened so quickly, Angelina half assumed she dreamed it.

She smiled at him, a confused expression on her face.

"Why did you do that?" Angelina asked, not unkindly. She was simply confused. She'd thought about her and George together, but she thought it was merely fancy on her part. The whims of a girlhood past, erased by the war.

"Well, I've been wanting to do that since Fred took you to the Yule Ball. But, specifically, just then, I kissed you because I love you and you look beautiful." George was smiling, his first genuine true smile in a long time.

"George," she looked right at him, "I think—I think that you're just upset, and you don't really mean—"

"Angelina, I mean it." He kissed her again, a kiss that lingered a little longer this time. "I've loved you hopelessly for years." His hands were covering her hands, and he was rubbing circles on her hands with his thumbs.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she asked. She wasn't sure if he wanted her to say she loved him back. She knew she wasn't quite ready for that one.

He laughed at that. It was weird and wonderful to hear him laugh. She realized that she hadn't heard him laugh since before the final battle, before the war started. It was like a wave of happiness washed over her—she hadn't realized how sad she'd been. She'd just been hiding it from George and herself.

"Well, because I was an idiot teenager, for one. Secondly, once we left school in such fine style everything got so crazy so quickly. The store, the war, and then—well then everything went to shit didn't it? I guess I just ran out of time." He snuggled closer to her, and kissed her forehead.

"But when you helped me out at the funeral, got me out of that terrible place I was staying, fed me, cleaned my house, got my shit together, made me talk to my family. All that stuff you just did for me—well I guess I just fell more in love you than ever." He shrugged, and wrapped his arms around her.

"George," she began, "I just want to make sure you are okay. I don't want to start something until we're both ready. I just—you are still really upset and…"

"I know, I know." He squeezed her. "Sometimes I just wake up at night and think everything is still okay, that Fred is still alive. I don't suppose I'll ever be over it completely."

"I know Georgie, I know. I just think we should hold off on anything until we've both stopped having bi-weekly meltdowns." She smiled at him, turned around, snuggling herself into him so that they were comfortably spooning. She felt sleepy, too many emotions in too short of a time frame.

"No promises. I'm trying, I really am. But sometimes—sometimes its just overwhelming. Sometimes I just miss him so much I cant breathe. But I promise you that I wont stop trying. I can promise you that for sure." He kissed her hair, making sure he was snugly wrapped around her.

"Deal." Whispered Angelina, already starting to fall asleep.

They snuggled as close as two spoons until Angelina had to get up to go to work. She couldn't remove the smile that seemed to be plastered onto her face for the remainder of the day.

It was the lightest she'd felt since Fred died.

Things began to change between them.

George put on more weight, looking somewhat like his former self. He went to the shop more, saw his family more, continued on his path of recovering himself.

And Angelina was more in love with George than ever before. They hadn't done anything physical yet, save sleeping in the same bed together, but she was falling for him all the same. There also hadn't been any declarations of love, by either George or Angelina, since the day she had caught him crying.

Angelina didn't want to push her luck with George, and this is why she hadn't told him how she felt. She didn't want to upset the fragile balance of healing he'd established for himself. She was so very proud of him, and she'd hate for him to regress back in any way.

But they were cohabiting nicely together, and despite the hints by Mrs. Weasley and ribbing by George's brothers, they were still just very close friends who cared dearly for one another.

But things were certainly looking up.

Angelina came home from work one Thursday, about a month after they day she'd found him crying. She could hardly believe it had been over three months since Fred had died.

But what she really couldn't believe was the candlelit dinner George had prepared for her when she walked in the door.

"Wow!" She exclaimed, gaping at George, who was cooking in the kitchen with one of his mothers old aprons on. "Look at you! Molly would be so proud!" She laughed.

George looked at her with pride and a touch of embarrassment. "Yeah, well, don't get too excited. I stopped by the house today and had tea with Mum. Told her I wanted to cook you dinner, "he smiled wide, "she nearly jumped out of her chair with excitement and provided me with several completely git proof recipes that 'I couldn't bungle if I tried my hardest'."

Angelina beamed at him, and went up to hug him, letting his arms wrap around her and hold her firmly and snugly. She kissed him on the cheek, letting her gratitude for his gesture be known.

Dinner was wonderful. Simple, but cooked with love. Angelina thought vaguely that when people put love in their food—you could taste it.

After dinner they lounged about the flat, watching some muggle T.V. and drinking wine. They were curled up on the sofa together when George suddenly looked down at Angelina, pushed the hair out of her face, and kissed her—long and lingering.

"You look beautiful today," he said softly, kissing her again, "it was a miracle I could keep my hands of you when you walked through the door."

He'd never said anything like this before to her—they'd never ventured into this territory. It occurred to her, that perhaps he'd been tiptoeing around her as she had been him. Maybe he was afraid he would upset her healing process.

"Mmmm," she smiled at him, kissing him again and turning them so that she was on top of him, "well, I could say the same about you."

"Oh _really?_ Couldn't resist my charms could you? I only knew it was a matter of time really…" There was genuine mirth in his voice, and his attitude was quickly spreading to her. She swatted at him playfully, leaning in again for another kiss.

And that's when things got heated.

Angelina moaned softly when George started running his arms up and down her sides. It was like sparks were physically flying between them. It occurred to Angelina that she hadn't done anything like this in a long time—and unless George was _very_ good at hiding things—neither had he.

"George," she stopped his wandering hands, holding onto his wrists, "what are we doing?" She needed his words right now—_before _she let him have free reign with his hands.

"Well—I was planning on shagging on the couch. But if you'd like to transition to the bedroom that would be completely okay too." He kissed her again, rolling them so that he was on top of her, pressing his body into hers.

Angelina suddenly felt that the room had increased at least a dozen degrees. His body on top of her, not smothering but just _there,_ was overwhelming . And she hadn't seen George this confident since before the war—he was truly recovering and it filled her with joy, among other (stronger) emotions.

She was moving under his hands, reacting to his caresses as if her body was simply commanded to do so. She knew where this was leading—and she wanted it to lead there—but she didn't want to do this improperly, so once again she stayed Georges hands.

"You're _killing_ me here." George rasped, gripping her hips firmly. She went to speak but he was planting kisses slowly up her neck so she had to take a moment to collect herself and push him back from her just slightly.

"Oh don't worry George, we're doing this," he laughed at that but she put her hand over his mouth, "but—I'd like to move to either your bed or mine, because the sofa really isn't—"

Without a word George hopped off of her, and she almost groaned at the loss of him. But before she got too disheartened he grabbed her off the couch, and led her to his bedroom.

It was glorious.

The second they touched that bed he was all over her like an animal, and she relished any second of it. Months of tiptoeing around one another, afraid to cause the slightest upset in emotion—all of that came crashing down.

He practically ripped off her work blouse, so eager was he to see her as nature intended. His eagerness excited her, made her want him (if it was possible) even more.

Her skirt was a little more tricky (far too many buttons) so she disentangled herself from George for moment to divest herself of it while he took off his trousers and jumper.

_Oh my._ Thought Angelina, raking in his body. He was still a little thin, but he'd retained much of his former Quidditch glory.

_She's so bloody beautiful_. Thought George. Angelina was all curves, her beautiful black skin in direct contrast to his paleness. George didn't think he'd ever been so pleasantly overwhelmed in his life.

_I have to touch her._ So he did, kissing and touching her with as much ferocity as before, straining against his underpants and itching to remove what remained of her clothing.

Before long he'd succeeded, and Angelina lay sprawled out before him in nothing but her smile. He was crouched on his knees, and he looked at her with an almost feral gaze, beleaguered with lust.

"George?" She asked, smiling back up at him, the lust corresponding in her eyes.

"Yes? Everything alright?" His breathing was ragged, his words uneven.

"Take off your underpants." She didn't think she could stand it much longer, she needed him to be with her, in her, completely. She was pining for him, and he could sense it—his want for her equally matched.

Almost as if it were occurring in slow motion (although it couldn't have taken more than half a minute), George removed the his underpants, settled on top of Angelina, and slipped one of his (long) fingers inside her.

She arched towards him, hips leaving the ground, sensation spreading like an undulation wave throughout her body. His rhythm was torturing, she was squirming beneath his touch as he rubbed his other hand all over her body, lighting it on metaphorical fire.

He kissed her, his tongue prying its way into her mouth, his hand never ceasing its sinful motions. She was building (quickly) and he could sense it.

"Just let go." He whispered, licking the outside of her ear as he did so. He sped up his motions and she lost it—she pushed her hips down onto his hand and rode out waves of bliss.

He continued his motions until she'd stopped contracting, then deftly removed his hand and licked his fingers, making sure she could see him.

"Gross." Angelina crinkled her nose up at him, wriggling on the bed.

"Says you," he retorted, spooning Angelina, letting her feel the extent of his desire for her, "you know what comes next don't you?" He turned her face towards him and raised his eyebrows repeatedly in a comical way.

She giggled at him, scared a little (it had been awhile) but excited at the same time.

"Oh, I think I have some idea." She rolled them around so she was now on top, sitting on Georges lap, the object in question now in her hands. She war rolling with the situation, doing what her body felt he wanted.

She was touching him, lightly, in an exploratory way. Now that he was finally before her like this, she didn't want to rush things. Savoring—that's how she was going to handle this.

"Wait—" *gasp* Angelina wasn't stopping her motions, "before you um—finish that thought. I need to—" *gasp* "ask you something."

Angelina stopped moving, looking down at him ponderingly. She had a feeling she knew what the question was, but if he asked her what she thought he was going to ask her, she'd be right put off her mood.

She'd never done anything with Fred. They'd been practically children then, full of fancy and mischief. They'd snogged a couple of times, and were never really 'together' like that. He'd been one of her nearest and dearest friends—just like George—and then the war came and he died. That was all there was too it.

But so help him if George asked her if she'd ever slept with Fred she would storm out of this room right now. It wasn't right—some things aren't shared—and this sensitive information (however harmless) was one of those things.

"What George? What do you want to ask me at this juncture?" She was a little pert, but he chalked it up as simple impatience. However, he wouldn't go any further unless he was sure.

"You love me right? This isn't just—I don't know—a one time thing? You're my girl, aren't you?" He needed to know—if she didn't feel about him the way he felt about her, he couldn't bear to continue. It would simply hurt his heart too much and his heart couldn't take any more hurt.

Angelina had to blink back tears—she felt her heart swell with love for this boy—this man—who'd lost so much yet managed to pull his life back together in the face of insurmountable despair.

George was concerned, this was not the reaction he anticipated. They were naked, in a (more than) compromising position, and all he wanted was for her to say she loved him and for them to make love more or less continuously for the rest of their lives.

And she seemed to be trying not to cry. This was not going at all well.

"Angelina?" George put his hands on both sides of her face, looking into her eyes. "Are you alright? I'm—I'm sorry I upset you, I just needed to know—"

"Of course." She said to the floor, looking away, trying to compose herself.

"Of course what?" asked George, more confused than ever.

She turned to him, beaming, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

"Of course I'm your girl." She kissed him, hard. "I love you so much."

"I love you too."

The time for talk had ended. George didn't think he'd ever been this happy—pre war or post war—and everything from then on seemed to be at the same time in slow motion and blazingly fast.

Angelina began plating furious kisses all over George's face, kissing his eyes, his forehead, his lips, anywhere she could touch. She took his penis in her hand again and began to stroke it lightly, in her exploratory nature of before.

But George was no longer in the mood for exploration and games. He began to stroke and tease her again, making sure that she was ready for him. She moaned and sighed, loving his touch, craving it, wondering how she'd even _lived_ this long without it.

The teasing didn't last long, they had both become impatient with the games they were playing. With one quick motion Angelina lifted herself slightly, positioning George exactly in the right spot. With one sure thrust he was buried inside her, and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding while she groaned. It was borderline uncomfortable—but her readiness corrected all thoughts of discomfort after a few moments. Besides, when George began to move inside of her she had difficulty finding _anything_ wrong with anything in the universe.

His movements were sure but uneven—but Angelina hardly cared. She was abound with sensations, as if she had always been _meant_ to feel this way and never realized it until this very moment.

And George—he was awash with emotion and sensation as well. Everything just felt so _good_. Being inside Angelina was like coming home after a lifetime of being away, and he deliriously vowed to himself that he wouldn't fuck this up. He would do right by her.

"Oh, oh, _oh!_" Angelina gasped, rocking her hips down onto George as he thrusted up. Their movements were escalating, faster (and faster) and faster…

"Angelina, I—I'm—" George couldn't hold on much longer, her body around him, the smell of her perfume and her hair, the smell of their sex, it was too much. He hadn't had sex in over a year and he hadn't had sex this amazing…well _ever_. It was consuming.

"I'm almost—almost—oh! _OH!_" Angelina cried, but softly, as if shocked by her body's powerful reactions. She spasmed, tightening around George, feeling him ejaculate inside her, recognizing that he said something but no longer capable of auditory function. It occurred to her in a panic that they hadn't used any contraception—but then she remembered that she was on the potion and silently thanked her mom for _insisting_ she be on it _always_.

They collapsed onto the bed, George still soft inside her, Angelina straddled around him with her head on his chest. She was utterly contented, and semi-dozing off, snugly attached to the object of her affections.

Eventually she moved to lay beside him and he slipped out of her. She forgot what an odd sensation that was, and she wriggled her nose at the feeling. He laughed, kindly, and settled beside her, both of them lying down and facing one another.

"Wow." She said, at a loss for any further speech. George laughed again, a deep-belly contented laugh. Angelina relished in it—it was the laugh of the old George, a George she felt had died with Fred. Until now. He was resurrected before her—and it made her a million different things but mainly she was just happy.

"Wow yourself. If I'd had known you looked that good naked I'd have tried this _years_ ago. It was Angelina's turn to laugh: she giggled and swatted him playfully, taking the opportunity to settle herself closer to him.

"Its going to be alright now isn't it?" Angelina asked.

"Yes. I think it is." George answered, yawning.

Angelina smiled. They lay beside one another until George drifted off to sleep. Angelina studied him meticulously.

She decided it was indeed going to be alright.


	2. Chapter 2

_I can't believe its been a year. _

Angelina mused, as she did dishes from the last couple of days in her and George's flat. She could have just magiced the dishes, but she was frustrated and upset and the physical labor was good for her. The memorial for those who fell in the Second Battle of Hogwarts was yesterday, and George had been quite (understandably) somber all morning. She knew he should be upset, it was probably healthy for him to be in a reflective mood, but Angelina didn't care. When George was unhappy, she was unhappy, especially these days, no matter how ridiculous and irrational it was.

_A year ago Fred was alive. A year ago the world was still whole…_

"That's not fair." She mused aloud to herself. Her world, all things considered, was very (very) whole at the moment. That tended to happen when one was in love (and the sex didn't hurt either). Everything had this strange sheen or glow to it these days. As if her entire world was now seen through her love for George.

George, at this moment, was lying in his bed. Well, his and Angelina's bed, as she had moved into his room nine months ago and they'd turned her room into a study of sorts. They'd been in love since forever, sleeping together for nine months and an 'official couple' (which essentially entailed telling the Weasleys ) for the last six months. George woke up daily absolutely dumbstruck that Angelina continued to stay with him. He was better, leaps and bounds better, and finally coping with Fred's death.

But coping didn't mean he was over it. One does not lose ½ of one's soul and merely recover. The scar would always be there, but George sincerely hoped Angelina would always be there too. It was a form of balance really, and this was what George was being so reflective about while lying in bed.

They hadn't had sex last night, after the memorial, which was unusual for them. But they'd both been exhausted, emotionally and physically. Everyone had made the strongest effort to hold it together all day, and it was mainly for Molly and Arthur's sake. George always assumed that Fred's death had hit him the hardest, but that was until he saw his mother breakdown. Molly would never fully recover from losing her son, and everyone wanted to make sure the memorial went as smoothly as possible.

The memorial wasn't just for Fred of course. It was for everyone lost in the final battle. Everyone George and Angelina knew was there except Andromeda Tonks. It was too much for her as well, a mother's grief was simply endless, as a well that would never run completely dry. But Harry and Ginny had brought Teddy to the Weasleys afterwards, and it was almost wonderful how much he resembled both his parents equally.

And although the day was sad, George felt more pensive than anything. He was sad about Fred, of course, but mainly he was thinking about Angelina. Not surprising, since all he ever thought about was Angelina these days. He was almost as love struck as Hermione and Ron, but not quite. Those two verged on nauseating, with their sideways glances, giggles and endearments.

No, George's thoughts were firmly focused on Angelina. It was almost as if a trade had taken place, as if he'd had Fred taken away and then miraculously received Angelina. And that's what she was to him—a miracle. He'd never been in love before, and all in all, the experience was quite pleasant.

And what a love it was. Ever since they'd come together nine months ago the pieces of George's shattered life started to mend. Her love healed him, and he knew this very well. If it weren't for Angelina, George honestly didn't think he'd still be alive.

As George pondered the metaphysical states of life and death, Angelina had other thoughts on her mind of a far more physical nature. The reason why she was doing the dishes the muggle way and every little thing was annoying her was entirely physical.

Angelina was pregnant.

She honestly didn't know how it had happened. They were _always_ careful, always. She had found out yesterday, in fact, right before they left in the morning for the memorial.

Because George left for the shop (where he was working full time causing all sorts of unbridled mischief) so early in the morning, he'd missed the telltale sign of nausea. And truthfully, Angelina had only been sick in the morning two or three times.

It just hadn't added up. She knew she was late, but that was nothing new and she really didn't know how late she was. She had been chatting to Katie Bell about all of it yesterday morning over the Floo and Katie _sternly _insisted that she take a (magical) pregnancy test. Apparently the muggle methods of such detection were simply ridiculous, something about peeing on a stick…

So Angelina had snuck out to the shop while George was in the shower and then taken the test while George was making them breakfast. Much to Molly's delight and the teasing of his brothers, George had become something of a cooking marvel. So as he whipped up some breakfast, Angelina's entire life changed.

_Definitely pregnant. It's a boy! _The test spouted at her, screaming louder (metaphorically, not actually) than any Howler. For about five minutes she couldn't breathe properly. She simply sat on the floor of their bathroom and stared at the test. It wasn't until George politely knocked on the door and reminded her that they had to leave that she got up.

He thought she was just upset about the Memorial. But Angelina spent the entire day aloof and adrift in her own thoughts. She couldn't focus on death when there was life growing inside of her.

(Obviously) George and Angelina had never talked about having a child. She'd wanted to, but she'd wanted to _eventually_. Twenty one (or I suppose twenty two once the baby was born) was a little young in Angelina's opinion. Yet, George made plenty of money at the shop, she had a job at the Ministry, and if The Boy Who Lived parents' could do it, well then so could she.

She was just petrified of George's reaction, which is why she brushed off his advances last night and was scrubbing dishes with ferocity. She was scared she'd upset George in some way. He'd travelled miles in the right direction to get where he was, and she did not want this to veer him off track. She also knew that if he asked her what was upsetting her she'd spill completely, which was why she was temporarily avoiding him until she figured out the best way to tell him.

As she began to dry the dishes, Angelina suddenly dropped one, smashing it into a million little pieces. Well, now she remembered the night she must have gotten pregnant.

As she picked up the pieces of glass (yet another thing she was choosing to do the muggle way), she mused on her sudden recollection…

_She had just gotten home from the ministry, and it had been a rough day. So she decided to take a very uncharacteristic (for her anyway) afternoon shower. _

_As she felt the water run over her body, she suddenly felt someone (and she had an idea who that someone might be) enter the shower and push her up against the wall._

_His entire body was leaning into her, and she felt overwhelmed and excited. He kissed her neck. She giggled._

"_What?" he asked. "Not a good surprise?" he wriggled his eyebrows at her._

"_Oh, I love these kinds of surprises," she said, curling her leg around him and rubbing herself against him, eliciting a well deserved moan, "I was just wondering how you went from the door to naked so quickly without me hearing you."_

_He kissed her, teasing her with his hands, making her gasp and shut her eyes tightly, water pouring down on the both of them._

"_Well, I am rather good at magic you know." She was moaning, writhing under his touch. He had caught her off guard, and she was beset with sensation. She couldn't wait any longer, withholding himself from her at this juncture was borderline cruel. _

"_George, I need you now." The phrase was all it took. He (carefully as always) slid into her, and she gasped. The angle was awkward, but what George lacked in finesse he always more than made up for in enthusiasm. _

_Within minutes Angelina was moaning so loudly they'd have definitely gotten complaints if they didn't have the noise cover of the shower. George swiveled his hips, pushing deeply (deep)inside of her._

"_Oh __**god**__ George!" she whined. Angelina bit his collar bone. They both climaxed, shuddering. _

_They would definitely be having sex in the shower from now on. _

As Angelina reminisced, putting the last of the glass shards in the trash, she berated herself for her carelessness. She'd been off the potion for a while, but they had always used the charm. They had been diligent about it, but apparently not so diligent.

_So much for CONSTANT VIGILENCE! _

Doing the math in her head, she figured she was already over two months pregnant, maybe more.

_Totally worth it._ Her mind quipped to her. She smiled to herself. It had been pretty spectacular. In fact, it had been so wonderful that they'd been showing together consistently ever since. Angelina sighed, lustily, wanting nothing more than to go to George and touch him and rub herself against him.

While their sex life was brilliant, Angelina was not used to these waves of—well---waves of _lust._ She'd been practically all over George these last couple of weeks, and as of yesterday it all made sense. Mind you, she wasn't _complaining_, and certainly neither was George.

But sometimes it was just so _inconvenient, _loving him this much. She would be working at the ministry and just itching for her lunch hour to come so that she could go visit him at the shop. Or when she got home, she would just restlessly pace for minutes, wanting George to walk through the door so badly.

And now, well, now there was a big change coming. And she really didn't know how George would feel about it. As she was scanning the floor to make sure there was no more glass, two strong arms grabbed her from behind and pulled her into a hug.

"Mmmm," George murmured into Angelina's hair, "you smell like shampoo, soap and delicious".

She laughed at him.

"I smell like delicious?" she asked, turning to plant a kiss on his cheek, rocking into him.

"Fraid so. You smell so good you turn adjectives into nouns." She laughed again, and then he laughed, and then there were both just overcome.

As they stood there, holding one another and laughing, flourishes of glee washed over Angelina. This was her greatest achievement, bringing George out of himself, and back to the person he was before Fred died. The absence of his laughter had left a hole, and now that it had been repaired everything seemed in proper balance.

Angelina turned herself around, and kissed George full on the mouth, a little more passionately than she intended. She needed to tell him she was pregnant, but right now all her mind was telling her to do was _remove George's trousers._

Not wanting to upset her own fragile nature (laugh), she made to undo George's belt. She would tell him, but right now her body was in sensual overdrive. He just looked so damn—delicious. It really wasn't fair at all.

"I like this new Angelina." George rasped as he made quick work of Angelina's shirt and bra, then stepping out of his pants.

"Oh? Didn't like the old Angelina?" she kidded, removing her skirt (George really never got the hang of removing nice clothing without damaging it).

"Hmm, I stand corrected. I love _all_ Angelina's. Better?" He wrapped himself around her, surrounding her in a delightfully close way.

"Much better." Angelina whispered, her eyes filling with tears. While the pregnancy hormones had their upside, they also had their downside. She cried at everything. Especially when her boyfriend was being so damn manly and adorable.

Angelina held George's face in her hands, and convincingly blinked back her tears. She just hoped George was chalking up her crazy behavior to her being upset about the Memorial.

"You alright?" he asked kindly, smiling toothily at her.

Angelina's mind was ablaze:

_Tell him. Tell him. He looks so cute right now, his hair is all bed head. TELL HIM. I always forget how good he looks naked—its like this wonderful surprise (tell him?) every single time… _

"Take me to bed George." She replied, kissing him (hard) on the mouth.

There would be no discussion of babies, at least not for the next while.

They lay dozing in their bad, not awake but not asleep either, totally intertwined. All the melancholy had been banished from George's mind, and he went back to being contented and hopelessly smitten. Angelina, on the other hand, was stricken. She needed to tell him she was pregnant. She should have told him yesterday, and the more she put it off the more she became afraid to tell George.

Angelina got up, unable to lie alone with her thoughts any longer. She needed action, or at least the pretense of action.

As she left the warm bed and headed into the bathroom, George said something that sounded to Angelina like "whryoogng?".

"What Georgie?" she asked, turning back towards him.

He came to a little, sitting up slightly and propping himself against the headboard.

"Where are you going? It's a Sunday. I figured we'd keep with the regular Sunday tradition and lounge in bed until Mum Floo's us to come over for supper."

She smiled kindly at him, her heart swelling for absolutely no reason in particular.

"I'll be back in five minutes, I just need to shower." She went to the bed and kissed the top of George's head. As she went to head back to the bathroom he grabbed her arm pulled her in for a (bloody outstanding) kiss.

George was rubbing little circles on Angelina's wrists, and if she didn't pull herself away in the next ten seconds she was just going to climb aboard once again—be damned the consequences. But she owed it to him to get herself under control. She would shower, compose herself, and tell him she was pregnant.

As she pulled away George gave an uncharacteristic pout.

_Men_, thought Angelina,_ honestly I don't know why we bother sometimes._

She smiled at him.

"I'll be out in five minutes, I _promise_, and then we can do whatever you want." She said. _That is after I tell you I'm carrying your child and you … flip out? Cry? Have no reaction whatsoever?_

"Want company?" George asked, making a exaggerated ogling gesture at her. She laughed, kindly shook her head and went into the bathroom, turning on the shower.

As Angelina washed herself and relaxed under the hot water, George found himself perplexed. Angelina was very hot and cold lately, and he didn't know why. One minute she'd be distant and aloof, and then the next she'd be attacking him and looking for the fastest way to remove his trousers. He wasn't complaining (about the sex part), but he was genuinely worried something was up with her.

As he pondered her strange behavior, Angelina showered. However, it has been ten minutes and she'd transitioned from showering to crying in a ball beside the shower.

_He's going to hate me. He's going to think I did this on purpose. He's going to leave me. He wont want it. We're too young. I'm not even sure __**I want**__ it—_

She stopped herself there. Whatever George's response, she felt so connected to the baby already she could never even consider 'taking care of it'. Not that she judged those who did. She'd just seen too much death lately. Regardless, she was sobbing, simply unable to get up the courage to open the door and tell George she was pregnant.

George was growing increasingly worried. Angelina, while always looking spectacular, was not one of those girls to spend upwards of twenty minutes in the shower. And that's what she was doing. At first he figured she was just tired and stressed out, and he could just relax and let her have some time to herself.

But when it had been half an hour with no noise but the water was still running, George grew concerned.

"Angelina?" he asked, getting out of bed and knocking on the door lightly. No answer. He went to turn the door knob, now full of concern, when he realized it was locked.

This set off a million worries in his mind. Although they gave one another their privacy, they _never_ locked the door on one another. George was worried there was something important she wasn't telling him to spare his feelings. It made him feel worried and angry all at once. He wasn't delicate anymore, she could tell him anything and he'd handle it.

"Angelina?" he asked again, loudly this time. Still nothing. George went to the bedside table, grabbed his want, and unlocked the door. He found a crying Angelina curled up in a ball beside the shower on the other side.

George quickly turned off the shower, summoned the blanket from their bed, sat down behind Angelina and pulled her into his arms while covering them with the blanket.

"Angie, what's wrong? You can tell me, its okay." He cooed, stroking her back in gentle circles.

She shook her head. Simply paralyzed by fear. George held her tighter, kissing her neck and rocking her gently in an attempt to calm her down.

"Its alright," he murmured, "its alright. You don't have to tell me until you're ready. Just calm down."

"But George—I—I—"she stammered.

"Shh, its okay. Just calm down first and then we'll talk. Don't make yourself any more upset." He held her tightly, afraid that something was really wrong. He knew if he tried to force the information out of her she'd just start crying again and not be able to spit it out. Besides, her being upset unnerved him to no end—she was supposed to be the one who calmed him down, not the other way around.

Angelina began to feel better, and her breathing slowed back down to normal. She grasped onto Georges hands with hers, and settled herself back against him.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much." She answered.

"You going to tell me why you're so upset? Was it the Memorial? Was that it?" Even as George asked he knew that wasn't it. She'd been acting weird for weeks, not just the last couple of days. It was as if he knew what was wrong but couldn't quite grasp it—it was just out of his reach.

"No," Angelina shook her head, "it wasn't that. I mean—I was upset about it, but that's not why I'm crying."

George turned her face towards his and looked at her—_really _looked at her.

"Angelina, its alright. Whatever you have to tell me, I can handle it. I'm a big boy, you don't have to hide things from me because you're afraid they'll upset me. Whatever it is we'll deal with it because I love you and you love me. That's all we need to fix whatever is wrong, okay?"

She nodded.

"Good. Now tell me. What's upsetting you?" he stroked her hair, and warmed up her cold body with his own.

Angelina looked down and mumbled something that sounded to George like "imprungent". He furrowed his brow, thinking.

"I'm sorry I didn't quite catch that. Say again?" he said softly. The wheels in George's head were spinning. He thought he might know what she meant but he wasn't really sure because he hadn't really heard her.

"I'm pregnant." She signed, and buried her face in his chest.

If George thought his head was spinning before, this had knocked it straight off of its axis and it was now rolling somewhere in the bathroom.

The thoughts in his head were zooming around so fast that he couldn't pin one down long enough to actually _think_ about it at all.

_Oh my sweet Merlin! How did this happen—we were always so careful. I wonder what Fred would think—but Fred doesn't think anymore because Fred's dead.—What mum going to say? She'll probably be thrilled. –Am I thrilled?—I'm surprised, that's for sure.—So this is why she's been so insane lately. –Is Angelina happy about this or is she sad? –Is that why she was crying, because she doesn't want the baby? Because she doesn't want me? –Is she stuck with me now? No. No Angelina loves me. I know she does. I know it more than I've ever known anything.—Then why was she crying? Because she was afraid __**I didn't**__ want it? How could I not? It's a gift after so many things have been taken.—Wow she really does look amazing naked. –Could I have seen this coming? –She doesn't look any different to me. –I wonder how far along she is. –Maybe it was that day in the shower. –I wonder if it's a girl or a boy. –Fat chance it's a girl. –I don't think I've ever been so happy… _

While George's internal dialogue was in full force, Angelina had begun softly crying into George's chest. She took his silence as anger, and she was afraid to look at him. However, _had_ she been looking at him she would have noticed the big, foolish grin plastered right across his face.

It took him all of five minutes to realize Angelina was crying, and by this point crying fairly audibly. George was never first to grasp the emotional undertones of a situation, which is why if he felt Angelina was upset he just asked her what was wrong rather than spend ages trying to figure out the quadratic equation of her mind.

"Angelina, why are you crying?" he kissed her hair.

"Because you're angry with me." She looked up at him and started to sob again. "Oh Georgie I'm so _sorry_! We were always so careful—and it must have been that one time in the shower when you surprised me. Please don't be angry—please! I—I don't know what to do—please don't think I did this on purpose to—to _trap_ you or something. You can be as involved as you want, you don't have any responsibility—" George cut her off and put his hand over her mouth.

"Angelina, what _on earth_ are you talking about?" he smiled so large Angelina's heart simply melted and she realized she'd read the situation entirely wrong.

"You're—you're not mad at me?" she was trembling, so he kissed her.

"I'm one hundred percent surprised, but I'm guessing you are too because we _were_ extremely careful ninety nine point nine percent of the time. As for the time I surprised you in the shower—totally worth it." She smiled up at him so he took the opportunity and kissed her again, a little stronger this time.

"As for you _trapping_ me or whatever that rubbish was that just came out of your mouth", his voice was dead serious and Angelina became worried for a split second, "I'm afraid you've had me trapped long before this ever happened. I don't think I could live without you if I tried, baby or no baby."

"Oh," Angelina said softly, "its just that—you know—some girls get pregnant on purpose…"

George laughed.

"Well, I take it by your reaction to all of this that this was definitely not done on purpose. It wasn't expected, but its no less welcome. And how could you ever think I wouldn't want responsibility of my own child? I mean—it is mine isn't it?" he was teasing her, of course. Angelina punched him playfully on the shoulder and kissed him (oh so) passionately.

"Oh shut it you!" she exclaimed. "So, you are really okay with this?"

"No, I'm not okay with this. I'm _euphoric_ about this!" With that he picked her up into his arms and spun her around in circles, both of the naked, in the bathroom. Soon the room was filled with sounds of Angelina's giggles as George carried her out of the room to their bed caveman style, with her flung over his shoulder. He put her down on the bed and encased her body in his, covering her everywhere. However, just as he began to touch and feel and lick, he realized she was (oh my goodness) pregnant and that he was (OH MY GOODNESS) on top of her—so he abruptly climbed off and sat back on his heels.

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay?!" George asked, looking at her as if he expected obvious signs of damage.

"What?" Angelina was confused. Sex with George was, _active_, to say the least. And as far as she knew sex was good for the baby as long as they kept the shenanigans at an acceptable level.

"I forgot, sorry. Its all just so exciting! I should be gentler with you now. Wait—can we still—isn't it bad for the baby—" he was rambling, torn between his want for Angelina (which was now quite apparent) and his fear that their lovemaking would somehow hurt their (surprise!) child.

"George, as far as I know I did not turn into fiberglass in the last ten minutes. And if you recall, we've made love many (about a million?) times since the day I think I got pregnant. Including about two hours ago. So, _clearly_," she reached for his penis, eliciting a gasp. She was lightly stroking him and enticing him back down to her, "everything is a-okay."

"I suppose—," George rasped, "I suppose you're right. We'll just *gasp* take things slow until the baby comes though, just to *gasp* easy my mind *gasp*. Okay?"

She pulled him down on top of her, loving the feel of his body all over hers.

"It's a deal."

George began to push against her, their bodies entwined and the room becoming very (very) hot. Angelina, all worry banished from her mind, was ready to fully enjoy this and let her hormones take total control.

But George was still worried. Not about the baby, he was beyond excited about the baby. The universe had taken Fred, but it had given him Angelina and now this wonderful new life. Things weren't even, it wasn't like George was keeping score. But his life now had a sense of purpose and balance for the first time.

What was worrying him, as he continued to push against Angelina, was that he was crushing her and somehow harming the baby. Irrational as he knew this was, it was still preventing him from fully enjoying this.

Angelina noticed his hesitation.

"George?" she asked. He stilled his movements and pushed himself up onto his arms so that he could look at her properly.

"Is everything alright? You aren't going to hurt me or the baby, I promise." Angelina was panting, her body took stopping at this juncture as the greatest offense, _ever_. She strained up to kiss him, wrapping her legs around his middle and trying to pull him back down to her.

But it wasn't working. His brow was furrowed, and Angelina could see that he was trying very hard to stay still and take his weight off of her.

"George," she panted, "its _fine_. I promise, I _triple _promise." She used all her strength to pull herself up to his body, planting kisses wherever she could reach. However, this did not have the desired effect, as George rolled off of her, looking frustrated and concerned all at once.

"I—I can't Angelina. What if I hurt the baby? What if we've _already_ hurt the baby?" He looked at her, flushed with desire, wanting her so badly yet afraid to take her. It was as if he was being pulled in two directions at once by two _very_ powerful forces.

Angelina sighed in frustration, she was about ten seconds away from making George inert magically and just climbing aboard. She understood he was worried, and in any other circumstance it would be adorable. But right now Angelina's body needed George, and he was being exceptionally difficult about it.

"George," Angelina ran her hands all over his body, snuggling herself right up against him, "it will be fine. Having sex is _good_ for the baby."

George looked at her skeptically, trying not to enjoy (too much) the feel of her hands running over his skin.

" Truly!" she continued. "I'm not you know—just saying that." She blushed furiously, looking away for a moment.

George kissed her, moving his hands all over her just as she was doing to him. Merlin he wanted her. It was almost irrational, his want for her. It was always just _there_—while wonderful, it made life inconvenient sometimes. Especially when they were in public.

As they caressed one another, moaning and gasping, Angelina decided it was time for decisive action. Before George could protest, she straddled him, settling herself firmly astride and began rubbing herself up and down his arousal.

"This better?" she asked, moaning and tugging on his hair.

"You're—a—bloody—genius." George eked out, putting his hands firmly on her hips. Honestly, he had no idea why he didn't just think of this sooner. This position was a personal favorite of his, even though he knew Angelina liked it better when he was on top. And to be fair, his brain, heart (and other things as well) had been going a mile a minute since she told him she was pregnant.

"Well *gasp* I have my moments." Angelina smiled up at him, her body screaming for release. Deciding making either of them wait any longer was a form of _both_ cruel and unusual punishment, she grasped George's penis (he made a noise somewhere between a gasp, a sigh, _and_ a moan) and suck down onto him.

"Bloody _brilliant._" George gasped. He tightened his grip on her hips, holding her tightly but not _too_ tightly. He could definitely get used to this for the next (nine months?) while.

"Oh _George_." Angelina sighed, moving up and down, being guided by the rhythm George was setting with his hips and his hands on her hips.

_This is fantastic!_ Thought Angelina, moaning (loudly) as George rubbed his hands all over her neck, her stomach, her breasts. It was amazing, as if his hands were magically (ha!) everywhere all at the same time.

"I _love_ you." George rasped, pushing into her harder, faster. He was losing control, it was all too much. She just smelled so _good_. Felt so _good._ Looked so _good._ Her hair was wild, her eyes semi closed, her beautiful black skin completely entwined with his own.

"I love you too" Angelina bent down to kiss George, pushing her tongue into his mouth forcefully. She was blissfully happy, carrying the child of the man she loved so dearly.

Their rhythm became uneven, both pushing and pulling with one another, both gasping and moaning (and gasping)…

George began to use his hands to touch her, and she lost it.

"Oh _**George!**_**" **She fairly screamed, rocking into him with everything she had, leaning back and feeling him entirely buried inside of her. As she climaxed, George shuddered and ejaculated inside of her. She made to get off of him but instead George propped himself up against the headboard, taking her with him and holding her extremely close.

Angelina slumped against George's, holding his head in her chest and placing her head on top of his. She hadn't noticed, but tears were leaking from her eyes. George felt one drop onto his head. He looked up at her, held her face in his hands, and kissed her full on the lips.

"Are you okay?" George asked, "I didn't hurt you or anything did I?" he was slightly concerned, but Angelina was smiling.

"I love you. More than I've ever loved anything or anyone. I'm so happy we're going to have a baby." George smiled at her, giving her a gentle squeeze.

"I'm happy too. Truly Angelina. I—" he choked up, "I don't think I've ever felt—that is—after Fred died—after Fred died I never really thought I'd feel again. But then the universe gave me you, and now the universe is giving us this baby. It's as if—as if everything is going to be okay now. As if it's alright now." He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, gently, showing he loved her with his motions since he had a tendency to bungle his words.

Angelina sniffled, tears still leaking down her face. Joy radiated through her. It all worked out, and she felt like a fool for ever doubting George would be anything but wonderful. He began to kiss her neck, her collarbone, the tops of her breasts. She was ready to love him again, right now and for the rest of her life.

"George?" she kissed the top of his head.

"Yeah?" He kissed her eyes, and licked her tears, making her giggle.

"It's a boy." She whispered.

George smiled, a single tear escaping his left eye. He could feel himself stirring, his penis still buried inside her. He started to rub his hands all over her back and rock his hips into hers.

"Angelina?" he looked up at her, pushing hair back from her face behind her ear.

"Mhmm?" she grinned at him, placing a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Let's name him Fred." George didn't know what she'd say, but it felt right to him.

Angelina's heart stopped for a second. Undulating waves of feeling began to course through her body.

"I'd like that."

They spent the rest of the day in bed, just like a typical Sunday and yet a day entirely different from every day that had come before.

When they did go to the Weasley's later that day, it took Molly all of fifteen minutes to discern something was up. After convincing her that they hadn't run off and gotten married in secret, Angelina and George pulled her aside and quietly told Molly they were pregnant.

Molly shriek, the rest of the family found out.

There were tears, laughter, and a good deal of teasing.

All in all it was a good Sunday.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a Sunday morning, and Angelina Johnson and George Weasley were undergoing a very typical activity for a Sunday morning.

"Oh _George!_" Angelina moaned (loudly), George vice gripping her hips and pushing and pulling her so that he went in and out of her overly sensitive body.

As per her promise, she was once again on top. Since she told him she was pregnant three months ago they'd done pretty much every variation (with extreme care-at George's insistence) of girl-on-top that existed. But today they'd decided to go with classic Angelina on top, an oldie but surely a goodie.

"I fucking _love_ you" George exclaimed, moving his one hand from her hip to caress her growing belly and very (very) tender breasts. Angelina smiled at him, loving that he was entirely incapable of controlling himself when they made love this way.

Angelina, much to George's bafflement, felt more insecure about her expanding body by the day. George, on the other hand, though she'd just gone a tad insane. She practically glowed with happiness and contentment, and it perplexed him how she couldn't see it. Besides, her breasts had gotten _enormous_ and there were still three months to go.

George couldn't help but be just a little excited about it.

"I love you too." Angelina half laughed, half cried. She wrapped her hands around George's and brought them both to her breasts. At least her breasts had gotten bigger, despite the fact that the rest of her was expanding indefinitely. Sometimes she felt like the universe—perpetually expanding into infinity.

And her body was so _tender_ and easily excited all the time. It made sex with George, which had always been extraordinary, simply _sublime._

He rubbed his thumbs over her hyper sensitive nipples as he thrust up in to her rhythmically. She was panting, making these little gasp-sigh noises that George had come to live for. Their sex life had always been amazing, but it was these little noises, these little sounds that George relished in. That face that _he_ was eliciting these sounds from her made him feel powerful. And the fact that she could elicit similar noises from him made him feel powerless at the same time.

"_Georgie," _she moaned, almost in a whisper, "_oh Georgie I'm so close. So close." _She began moving faster, and George moved one hand behind her back to help guide her movements.

Angelina's body was in total overdrive. Her skin felt like it was on fire. Everything just felt so _fucking good._ And of course, it was George. George made her feel this way. That was at the center of it all-that was why the sex was always so wonderful. It was a lot easier to just relax and _really feel_ during sex because Angelina was so confident that George loved her. That no matter what happened he'd _be there_, better or (as they'd already experienced) for worse.

"An-Angelina," George rasped, his body coming dangerously close to completion, "I can't hold on. I'm going to come." He began to thrust wildly, with abandon, gripping onto Angelina's hips as hard as he could (but not too hard—she was pregnant after all).

Despite his vice grip, Angelina hardly noticed. She let out a keening wail as she ground herself down as hard as she could, feeling all of her inner muscles spasm around George. She felt him release inside of her and then flop his head back against the pillow.

She made to move off of him but he gripped her arms and whispered 'no stay-just for a minute' and so she did. He put both of his hands on her expanding belly, smiling up at her with a big goofy grin that made Angelina so happy she thought she would cry. And then she noticed she _was_ crying. Self control be damned, pregnancy hormones always win.

A look of concern crossed George's face, but only for a split second. He'd been living with a pregnant Angelina for a while now: he knew when she was crying out of sadness or frustration or happiness, and he decided to chalk these tears up to happiness.

But just to be sure, he rubbed gentle circles with his fingers on her belly, making sure she was entirely calm.

"You okay?" he asked. "Didn't hurt you did I?" he knew what she'd say, but he still needed to ask to ease his own mind and make sure she was alright.

A look that was a mix of irritation and love crossed her face.

"George Weasley, you have been asking me that question for the past three months. Did it _look_ like I wasn't enjoying myself?" she smiled at him, and placed her hands over his which were still placed on her belly.

"Well, _no," _ George blushed, "you seemed to be quite thoroughly enjoying yourself," he blushed some more, "but you know-just making sure. Constant vigilance!"

Angelina laughed at that one.

"Constant vigilance huh Georgie? We're going to have a baby in three months, and it was entirely unexpected, so, so much for _constant_ vigilance."

He laughed too, leaning upwards (for her belly was becoming a barrier for kissing her in this position) and kissing her on the mouth. Angelina held his face in her hands, and kissed him again.

"I love you." She said

"I love you too Angelina." He replied.

"Hmm," she leaned back and stretched her arms in the air, making her breasts look wonderful and creating a delicious angle for their still connected bodies, "want to show me how much?"

"You're on."

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

After they'd made love again and lounged about in their bed for a while, Angelina decided (in one of her hormonal upswings) that this particular Sunday was a day for action. So, against George's feeble protestations, she got herself out of bed and informed him she would be going to Diagon Alley so that she could purchase a crib for the baby.

George mad a very pensive face. They hadn't bought any baby things yet. At first they were waiting because they didn't want to jinx anything in case anything went wrong. But once Angelina was safely into their second trimester, they just hadn't taken the next step of purchasing baby things.

They had a room for the baby, they would turn the nook in the main area into a makeshift study and the baby would have what used to be Angelina's room. Ron and Harry had even come over and help to paint it while Hermione and Ginny took Angelina shopping for the baby. But they hadn't purchased any actual 'baby things' themselves.

They weren't exactly tight for money, but neither were they rolling in galleons. Buying all the new baby furniture would put a tax on their collective savings. More importantly, George had been wanting to propose to Angelina for ages, and had _finally_ saved enough money for a ring. Her sudden decision to go out and buy baby things was putting yet another obstacle in his master plan. Thus-his pensive stare when Angelina jumped out of bed and began (slowly) getting dressed.

But then, suddenly George had a brilliant idea.

"Angelina? You get ready, I'm just going to floo mum, I have to ask her a question." And with that he threw on his boxers and padded off into the living room.

Angelina raised an eyebrow at his behavior, chalked it up to being worried about having to buy all new baby things, and continued to find something to wear that would actually _fit_ her.

Within fifteen minutes George wandered back into the bedroom while Angelina was just finishing her hair. And 'finishing' really meant 'taming', as this was yet one more thing the pregnancy hormones had driven out of control.

"How's Molly?" she asked.

"She's great. Told her we'd be there at six tonight for dinner. Listen, Angelina—" he replied, hesitating because he wasn't sure how she'd react.

"Yeah Georgie?" he was up to something, she could sense it. While she appreciated his efforts, George had this strange to talent to make everything worse by helping.

"I talked to mum, and asked her if any of our baby stuff was kicking around. I figured since—well since we were the first couple to have a baby of all her children the chances were good that she'd still have some stuff lying around. And well—she said they've got _boxes and boxes_ of the stuff including a crib and a highchair and a baby bath and all of that good stuff." He was grinning like a fool, especially when he saw that Angelina was grinning back.

"Oh Georgie! That's wonderful! I never thought, I figured that she'd given it all to Bill and Fleur after there wedding." Angelina was excited, this would make things way easier for them financially, it just had never occurred to her that Molly would still have all that stuff.

"Well, unless you know something I do not, Bill and Fleur aren't pregnant. And I know mum can be forceful, but she's not _that_ forceful. And besides Angie, you didn't grow up with as many siblings as me. First come first serve is basically how we do it—I guess we just came first, no pun intended." But there was a pun intended, because George was laughing. Not just laughing, practically guffawing at his own cleverness.

Angelina loved when George was like this—when he was laughing and goofy and happy. She remembered a time a year and a bit ago when she'd feared she'd lost this George forever. And the simple act of remembering made her shiver. She was so happy he'd come so far, but it made her miss Fred too. She wished Fred was here to see how happy George was. Despite the natural twin competition that arose, when one was happy, the other was always happy for them.

Amidst his laughter, George saw Angelina shiver and got up and wrapped his arms around her. He knew her so well, he knew what she was thinking.

"I miss him too. He'd be so happy for us."

"I know he would be Georgie. That's why I miss him. He should be here to see this." She snuggled against him, letting herself be completely held by him.

"He is Angelina. Somewhere. He's gone, but he's not gone at the same time." George was trying to express some very complex feelings, and he wasn't doing too good of a job. He could tell because Angelina turned and looked at him, confused.

"Angie, its like—its like this. He's gone. And I know that. But we're going to have a little Freddie of our own. And Fred was taken from us. But whoever took him—whoever took him gave us this baby. And whoever took Fred also gave me you. So it's like, he lives on, physically, in my love for you, and in this baby. And when the baby is born I'll tell him why we named him Fred. And I'll tell him how wonderful and brave his uncle was. And he'll know all about him. So Fred will live on through him—through his namesake. So it's as if he's gone—but he's not. Am I making any sense?" George kissed her hair, holding her tightly.

"I love you," Angelina kissed him on the cheek, "and you make perfect sense to me. I'm so excited for our baby to arrive."

"Me too. Hey—I have an idea. Instead of going to get a crib, why don't we go out to grab some lunch? I have to run an errand in town anyway and you can go into that book store you love. Sound good?" George suddenly realized that he could definitely afford a ring for Angelina now. He'd sneak off while she was at the bookstore and surprise her before they went to The Burrow for dinner. Even though this was a last minute plan, it felt more right than anything else he'd ever done on his own in his life.

"Sounds wonderful. But you'll have to put some pants on first." Angelina winked at George and ambled into the hallway in search of walk-able shoes.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

After a delicious lunch that for Angelina consisted mainly of beef and pie ("Its all I want in the _world_!" she had said when George laughed) George had wandered off in search of a ring while Angelina went to the bookstore. She wanted to buy George a new spell book of recipes as a surprise.

After much ambling around the bookstore, Angelina had found the most perfect present for George. _101 Magical Recipes for the More Experienced Cooking Wizard_. He would love it, she knew. And her motives were a little selfish. He did cook for her too after all.

She paid for her gift, had it put in a concealed bag, and went to get herself some ice cream next door while she waited for George outside.

Before long he was there, looking as handsome and wonderful as ever. Angelina suddenly had a wave of pure lust wash over her. A million images of them making love flashed across her mind, including the several times the morning. She needed George to be naked, and she needed it _now._

"How was the bookstore?" George asked, putting an arm around her.

"If we aren't having sex in the next ten minutes I'm going to simply jump you. We need to disapparate—_right now_."

George looked at her wide eyed. Just when he thought he'd gotten used to her hormonal ups and downs she goes ahead and does something like this in an insanely public place. He just looked at her, stunned and aroused.

Angelina sighed, muttered something like '_I have to do everything sometimes'_, grabbed his arm tightly, and apparated both of them back to their flat.

The second they landed in their apartment Angelina was all over George like some sort of crazy animal in heat. Which, George pondered as she pushed his shirt over his head, she was sort of turning into.

Within a record amount of time they were both naked, and George broke their kiss and grabbed Angelina gently by the arm, making to lead them into their bedroom.

"No, no time," Angelina rasped, "need you right now. Right here." Angelina was planting kisses all over George's face, his neck, his collar bone, his stomach, going lower and lower. George realized the intent of her destination and tenderly helped Angelina to her knees.

Within moments she had taken him into her mouth, using her hands as well to stroke what her mouth couldn't reach. George made a noise that sounded like "npmph" which signaled to Angelina that he liked what she was doing. She hummed in response, which made George make a noise that sounded like "NPMPH!". She felt so powerful when she had him in this position, that she was this hyper sexual being sex goddess. She reveled in it. But she could only ever be like this with someone she loved as much as George—it was never the same when it wasn't George.

"Angelina—Angelina , I'm going to—if you don't stop—" George was panting, eking out words as his body was losing control.

She let him slip from her mouth, not that she minded if he finished this way, but her body was simply dying for him to be inside of her.

He deftly helped her to her feet, pulled her into a tight embrace, and rocked himself against her. His erection, slicked from her efforts, was pressed against her middle. Undulating waves of lust washed over Angelina. She began kissing George with fervor; she needed, wanted, _craved_ George inside of her.

George once again made to lead her into the bedroom, but she shook her head. She simply couldn't wait that long. She wildly glanced around the room looking for somewhere they could have sex with her burgeoning belly not getting in the way.

George was responding to Angelina's caresses and kisses with great fervor, rubbing his hands up and down her body and focusing all of his energy into keeping himself under control.

But Angelina was in no mood for control. She noticed that the kitchen table was clean and at the perfect height for sexual shenanigans, and so she grabbed George by the arm and dragged him towards it.

He made sure she laid herself down gently, getting settled at the edge of the table. With one sure thrust he was buried inside of her while he stood and she lay before him on the table, and she groaned wantonly at the sensation. Part of her felt naughty for loving this so much, for feeling so scandalous, but then George began to move rhythmically inside of her and all rational thought flew out of her brain.

George was loving this as well. He could see her, all of her, displayed before him on their kitchen table. Her arms were grasping at the sides of the table, desperately trying to control how out of control her was making her feel. Her breasts bounced with the rhythm of this thrusts, full and beautiful, and her belly was growing equally as round. Her belly that carried his child. Overwhelmed by this thought he let out a growl and thrust harder into her eager and welcoming body.

"Oh _George, George, George_." She chanted under her breath, making a little moaning noise between each exclamation of his name. George began to run his hands all over her belly and her breasts, feeling her beautiful skin as he thrust into her.

Before too long, Angelina was losing control one again. She began to thrash a little, to move from side to side trying to create more friction where her body was demanding it. George, taking the hint, moved his hands to where they were joined. He began to rub and tease and stroke her, and that in combination with his escalating thrusts sent Angelina over the edge.

"Oh, _fuck, _oh _George!_" she moaned, contracting around him, bringing him over the edge as well. After a moment, he skillfully pulled out of her and lay beside her on the table, spooning Angelina and putting his hands on her tummy.

After they lay together for a while, quite ridiculously, on the kitchen table, George remembered the engagement ring.

He popped up off the table, ran to his discarded clothes and started rummaging through them.

"George Weasley what on _earth_ are you doing?" Angelina asked sitting up on the table, genuinely curious.

"Looking for something. Um, close your eyes okay?" he asked, finding the ring that he had put in his pocket.

Angelina obediently put her hands over her eyes. Both of them still stark naked, George got up and pulled Angelina to her feet, leading her to the center of the room, her eyes still covered. He got on one knee, bits dangling and all, and told her to open her eyes. She did, and saw him kneeling, ring outstretched in his hands.

"Oh my god." She whispered.

"Angelina Johnson. I love you. I would have done this ages ago but I wanted to make sure I had a ring for you to wear. I promise you, no matter what, I wont ever stop loving you. You're it for me, truly. You saved me. You saved me from the bitter, shattered person I was becoming. You brought me back from the dead. Back to life. To you. Sometimes I'm at the shop and I just stop what I'm doing, because I got distracted by the memory of your smell or your eyes or the feel of your hair. I could never be without you again. Be mine? For good?"

Angelina couldn't help it, tears had begun to run down her face. This was, surprisingly, very unexpected. She thought they'd just continue living together, and eventually someday in the future get married. But him doing this, here and now, was just so perfect, so wonderful. She loved him so much she felt her heart would explode, no matter how cliché that sounded.

"Of course." She whispered. "Of course George. I love you so much." She pulled him to his feet and kissed him, pushing her body flush against his. The waves of lust were returning. She would definitely be up for another round very soon. And by soon she meant _right now._

Angelina grabbed George's hand, and led him to the bedroom.

"Come on," she whispered, "come and make love to your fiancé."

George smiled widely, picked her up and swiftly carried her into their bedroom.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

A while later, Angelina rolled over and noticed that it was about time for them to leave for The Burrow. The two of them (finally) got dressed and apparated over to the Burrow. Throughout the evening, George and Angelina managed not to slip and tell everyone about their engagement. It wasn't a secret, but they just wanted to tell everyone together at one time.

However, Angelina had been wearing the ring around her neck and Hermione and Ginny _both_ noticed. They dragged her aside and both of their faces simply said: _spill it._ So Angelina told them about George and his (naked) proposal. After much good natured giggling (it occurred to Angelina that being proposed to naked was pretty funny) Hermione let out an uncontrollable shriek of excitement.

And that began the circus. Ron came in to see if Hermione was okay, and Harry was with him. So Hermione, in her excitement, let the news slip. Well, before long, one thing led to another, and within fifteen minutes all of the Weasleys were toasting George and Angelina at the Burrow's dining room table.

"To Angelina, who brought George back to life." Said Charlie.

*cheers*

"To George, who makes Angelina's life spectacular." Said Ginny.

*cheers*

"To the to-be-born baby Weasley, may it be as beautiful as Angelina, and as mirthful as George." Said Percy.

*cheers*

"And to both George and Angelina, I wish you nothing but a life full of small, magical (ha ha ha) moments. And may your love take you everywhere, but always remind you that home is where the heart is." Eloquently said Bill.

*cheers*

Amid much hugging and kissing and crying (mainly Molly) the Weasleys celebrated George and Angelina.

Once again, a wonderful Sunday.


	4. Chapter 4

George entered his and Angelina's bedroom after a long day of work at the shop (mainly doing inventory with Percy, yawn), disrobed down to his underpants, and snuggled up behind his (very) pregnant fiancé.

"Mmmmmm Georgie" Angelina purred, snuggling close to George and putting his hands around her breasts.

He had been working late at the shop, much to his dismay, and he hurried home as fast as he could to be with Angelina. She was a week overdue, and every moan and groan sent George into a panic, fearing that she was going into labor.

In fact, he only went into the shop today because Angelina had _insisted _he go in to help Percy with inventory and get out of her hair.

"Honestly George, I know you are worried but stop hovering over me!" she had said, "I'm not made of fiberglass! If something happens or I go into labor I will contact you, post haste. Now go, Percy needs your help."

So he had gone into the office, but only under the condition that she floo him every couple of hours and that she let Ginny and Hermione come in and check on her. He was just terribly worried that something was going to go wrong with the baby.

George pressed himself up against Angelina, moving one hand towards her belly, hoping to feel some movement out of the baby.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." He kissed the back of her head.

"Mmmmm, well, you did. Now, what are you going to do about it?" Angelina pushed herself back into George, rubbing herself up against him. Surprisingly (and wonderfully) her sex drive had been maintained throughout her pregnancy.

However, the more pregnant she became, and the bigger her belly got, the more she had to coax sex out of George as he became increasingly worried they would hurt the baby. They hadn't made love since three days before her due date.

"Angelina," George warned, stilling her hips with seriousness in his tone, "I don't think this is a very good idea."

Angelina made a noise that sounded like "hmmfph" and made to turn towards George. However, her belly was extremely cumbersome and she was having difficulty turning around.

"Don't just bloody lie there," she whined, "help me turn around!"

George laughed, and disengaged himself from behind her. He scrambled onto his knees and helped Angelina maneuver onto her back. She looked totally adrift at sea with her enormous belly, and George's heart swelled. He pushed up her shirt and ran his hands all over her belly, and, much to his delight, the baby started to kick.

"Oi! Angie! He's kicking! He's _kicking!_" George said excitedly, feeling her tummy with enchantment.

Angelina smiled up at him.

"See," she said coyly, "he likes it when you touch me. He likes it when his mummy is happy."

George smiled down at her, and continued to run his hands all over her belly, feeling the baby.

"Georgie?" she grinned slyly, putting her hands over his.

"Hmm?" George mumbled, squeezing her hands.

"Please? I've been _so_ good these last two weeks. I haven't even _asked_ you for it, even though I wanted it _very, very_ badly."

George 's attention was suddenly exceptionally focused. He still wanted her, pregnant and all. It was the future of it all, the possibility that was embodied in her pregnant belly, that he was addicted to, hell, he was drunk on it.

But he wouldn't jeopardize the health and safety of mummy or baby under any circumstance.

"Angelina, we talked about this, we decided it wasn't a good idea—" he started.

"No," Angelina interrupted, disengaging her hands from his and pushing herself up onto her elbows, "_you_ decided. _I_ talked to my mum, to _your_ mum, _and_ to the healer at St. Mungo's and they _all_ said that—that sex was okay for the baby as long as we were careful. In fact, the healer _suggested_ we continue to have sex in order to induce labor naturally." Her tone was matter-of-fact, and it was true. She had done the proper research, the only thing that was preventing them from being together was George's misplaced sense of protection towards her.

"Angelina, I want you. Gods, I want you so badly, but—" she smiled up at him, lustfully, and it really wasn't helping him say what he thought he had to.

"—but I could _never_ forgive myself, if—if something happened, or if—or if—" he stumbled.

Angelina beckoned him towards her, and he placed his head gently on her belly while encircling it with his arms.

"George," she whispered, "its fine. We don't have to, I just, miss you. I miss your body. Everyone says it's alright for the baby. You won't hurt me or the baby in any way. I promise. But if you still don't feel comfortable, it's alright, we don't have to—"

George looked up at her, and smiled, a worried expression still on his face.

"I just don't think the baby wants to be continually poked and prodded." He mumbled, almost so Angelina couldn't hear.

But of course she did hear, which sent her into a fit of giggles.

"George, you'd think *giggle*, with so many *giggle* siblings *giggle* that you'd have a clearer idea *giggle* of how pregnancy *giggle* worked." She sputtered out, holding her belly as she laughed heartily.

George looked at her with consternation.

"Well, I'm just being cautious!" he retorted.

"And it's _adorable_, truly, it is. But George, listen to me, _you aren't going to poke the baby_." And with that she was off laughing again, except this time, George was laughing a little too.

Angelina threw her hands back behind her head and lay back down on the bed, still giggling a little. George lay down beside her on his side, facing her.

"I love you, you know that right?" he asked, kissing her.

"Mhm, I had some idea, yes." She replied, kissing him back.

"Okay," he said, defeated but excited, "we can _try_ some things. But if you are uncomfortable in any way, you better _tell me._ Okay?"

Angelina nodded furiously, becoming very (very) excited.

George began to plant kisses all over Angelina's face, and neck. She laughed, becoming very heated very quickly, very excited that George had finally given in.

He kissed his way down her body, pausing to lay his head on her stomach again for a moment, then continuing downwards.

He removed her knickers, as she lifted her hips (as best she could) to help him. He was running his hands up and down her thighs, touching her everywhere except the place that she was dying to be touched.

"Mmmm Georgie, I have waited long enough I think." She panted, squirming in an attempt to get him to touch her.

George laughed softly, and (slowly) slid two fingers inside of her. Angelina gasped and arched her back. It had been entirely too long since they'd done this.

"Better? You alright?" asked George, looking up at Angelina for any signs of discomfort.

"More than alight." Angelina half spoke, half moaned, as George began to move his fingers inside of her while using his thumb to touch her most sensitive places.

As George touched her, running his other hand all over her sensitive breasts, Angelina felt so contented she felt she would simply float away. She could feel herself building, quickly, and soon she was reduced to panting and slightly animalistic noises.

"Mmmm, Georgie, so close, so close—oh—_**oh!**_" Angelina climaxed, feeling herself clench around George's fingers.

Minutes passed, and then George deftly removed his fingers, shimmied out of his boxers, and went to lay down beside Angelina, kissing her passionately on the lips and once again laying down, facing her.

"There, happy now?" George asked.

Angelina pulled George's face to hers and kissed him on the mouth, hard.

"The happiest I've ever been," she replied, "and look", she grabbed his hands and placed them on her belly, "the baby is happy too!"

George was once again amazed to feel the baby kicking underneath his hands. He should be used to it by now, but every time it happened it was a little miracle in itself.

"See," said Angelina, "when mummy is happy, baby is happy. I hate to say 'I told you so' but—"

George cut her off with a kiss, pulling his body closer to hers. They lay there for a moment until a look of disquiet came across Angelina's face.

"What is it Angie?" George asked, kissing the tip of her nose.

"Well, it's hardly fair," Angelina whispered, taking George's (evident) arousal into her hands, "because if mummy is happy, then you should be too."

George couldn't disagree with that logic, not in the state he currently found himself in. George once again disengaged himself from Angelina's embrace and (very gently) rolled her over onto her side.

George spooned himself behind her, making herself feel the extent of his desire for her.

"Careful." Said Angelina.

"Very careful." George agreed.

George slowly pushed into Angelina, overwhelmed with the feeling of being inside her. You'd think he'd have gotten used to sex with Angelina by now, but every time was as wonderful as the first time.

Angelina was also overcome with sensation. God, how she loved this man, the father of her baby. It was as if she was floating, drifting, simply _feeling_ anything and everything.

As he moved inside of her, Angelina felt herself building once again. George could sense it, and he thrust harder into Angelina, but still maintained his gentleness.

"Oh, _**Georgie!**__" _Angelina all but yelled at she climaxed, feeling George let go as well as he grunted into her hair. Angelina was overwhelmed with her climax. Except this was felt different, more powerful, almost painful in its intensity. And it wasn't stopping.

George turned Angelina's face towards him to kiss her, and he noticed the look of pain on her face.

"Angelina?" George asked, concerned, as he pulled out of her. "Are—are you okay? Wait—is the bed—is the bed wet?"

"Oh gods," whispered Angelina, "its happening."

George was panicked.

"Angelina? What is happening? It is the baby? What's wrong?" George got up from the bed and walked around to Angelina's side and slowly helped her sit up.

"Nothing is wrong exactly," said Angelina, gripping George's hands, "the baby—its—coming. I think—I think my water broke."

George's eyes went wide. So wide, in fact, that Angelina couldn't help but laugh.

"Okay, okay," George mumbled to himself, "what do we do? What do we _**do?**_"

"George, I'm two weeks overdue remember? I've been packed for six weeks. Firstly, go floo your mum. Then get dressed. No, wait. Get dressed _then_ floo your mum. I'll stay here and get dressed. And then we will apparate to St. Mungo's. Tell Molly we will meet here there. Then floo Bill and Fleur. They will tell everyone else."

George looked dazed, he couldn't believe that this was actually happening. That is was actually _real._

"George!" snapped Angelina, "Get to it!"

George snapped out of it, kissed Angelina quickly, and then set himself in motion. He threw on jeans and a shirt, then grabbed a dress and knickers out of the drawer and tossed them at Angelina.

"Thanks." Angelina whispered, throwing on the clothes.

As George went to floo his family, Angelina got herself ready, grabbed her trunk and went to wait for Geroge in the kitchen. However, just as she sat down in the kitchen, she was hit with a strong contraction, much more painful than the last.

"_**George!"**_ she yelled, beckoning wildly with her hands for him to come over to her. George said a quick goodbye to Fleur and rushed over to Angelina.

"Here," said George, "grabbed my hands, squeeze my hands. It's alright, it's alright." Angelina squeezed onto George's hands as tightly as she could, and soon the contraction passed.

"Angelina?" George asked.

"S'okay. I'm okay. Lets apparate now before another one comes." She eked out.

"Okay. In three. Two. One." And off they went.

The delivery room was a complete blur. Angelina, in retrospect, thought of the whole labor in two ways: she could remember every little thing in detail and, at the same time, everything seemed to be happening in one fast blur.

They met Molly and Arthur, and Molly assured Angelina that it would be alright and over before she knew it. However, Angelina, who was having contractions every six minutes by that time, said something along the lines of "you had seven bloody kids woman they were walking out by the end!". However, Molly took it in stride, smiled at Angelina, kissed her forehead, and went to wait in the waiting room with Arthur.

The delivery wasn't a particularly difficult one, but the healer telling that to Angelina during was not of any real help. In fact, she yelled something like "if it's so bloody easy why don't _**you**__**do it you odious git!**_" George, who was half scared and half delirious, found this particularly funny and began to laugh. This, to Angelina, was not an appropriate response.

"Oh shut it you! This is **entirely your fault!**" she yelled, throwing a water bottle at George's face. However, George found this even funnier than her comment to the doctor, and had to struggle to control his laughter. Oddly, he found himself missing Fred, wishing he was here, his twin could always appreciate a good joke.

Yet, despite her hysteria, the baby was born without complication. Fred Weasley, as adorable and ginger haired as his namesake, came into the world screaming. But, he was fat and happy, and the second he was put into her arms Angelina knew she would never feel anything this strong again. Nothing in her life would ever compare to this. She began to cry, whispering "my baby, my dear sweet baby" over and over.

And then she remembered George was in the room, and she berated herself for forgetting.

"Georgie, come *sniffle* here. Come *sniffle* hold Freddie." She whispered, signaling George to come towards her and the baby.

George, holding his son in his hands, was elated with joy. He looked like a Weasley, but his skin had this amazing color to it, so amazing that George began to cry a little as well. This was his baby, _**his son,**_ his beautiful boy. George smiled at Angelina, and bet down to kiss her hair. She looked a mess, and she'd never looked more beautiful.

George went to go tell his parents as the healers cleaned up baby Freddie and Angelina, and he was surprised to see that his whole family (even Charlie!) were there waiting for him, despite the fact that it was very late.

As they all hugged and cried, George asked curiously what they were all doing there.

"It's the first Weasley of the next generation!" said Charlie, "If you thought we'd miss you were dreaming mate!

"Everyzing is alright, yes? Vith Angelina and ze bebe?" asked Fleur softly, running her hands over her stomach. She hadn't begun to show yet, but it was only a matter of time.

George nodded, and his mother once again hugged him, tears in her eyes.

"Well?" asked Ginny, who was standing beside Harry, holding his hand.

George looked at her confused.

"Honestly, George. Boy or girl? What's the baby's _name?_" she smiled and asked.

"Oh!" George beamed. "It's a boy! And, um, his name is Fred, or, Freddie."

"May he live up to his namesake in bravery and mirth!" exclaimed Percy.

Everyone was grinning.

Later, after George had sent everyone home with the promise that they could see the baby and Angelina first thing in the morning, George headed back into Angelina and the baby's room.

Angelina was sitting up in bed, breast feeding the baby. She looked so serene, so beautiful, that George's heart swelled.

"Got room for me?" he asked.

"Always." Said Angelina, patting the space on the bed beside her.

George went and nestled in beside his fiancé and child, wrapping his one arm around her back and touching the baby with his other hand.

Much to his delight, baby Freddie grabbed onto his finger with his tiny hands while he kept feeding.

"Oi! Angie, look!" Angelina looked down at George touching the baby, and she turned and kissed him.

"See," she whispered, "he can't even see yet and he still knows his daddy."

George could do nothing but smile. He felt that the smile would never be wiped from his face.

Angelina finished feeding the baby, and drifted off to sleep with George beside her holding an equally sleeping Freddie.

Hours passed, George adrift in contentment holding his sleeping son.

Suddenly, he was startled out of his trance by a soft knock at the door. Checking his watch, George registered that hours had passed, and it was almost ten in the morning. He looked at the door, and saw his sister. She mad a 'can we come in?' gesture, and George made an 'in a minute' gesture back.

George got up with the baby, and headed towards the door. Right before he opened it, he looked down to baby Freddie and said, "Son, there are some people outside who are very excited to meet you. Now, they might all be a little bonkers, but don't worry, its normal. Just remember, you are one of them, and they love you very much. And if you ever have a problem, they're your people. Ready son? Okay, lets go."

George opened the door, his baby son in his arms. He knew, somewhere, somehow, Fred was watching. And that he was smiling.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello all! I think this will be my last chapter in 'Alright'. Please review and let me know if you would like me to continue, or not. I think this chapter turned out to be rather…final. So, I don't plan on continuing. However, I can be persuaded. I appreciate all reviews, as always, and if anyone has any requests/ideas for another story…just let me know! Cheers! -Halgerd**

To Angelina it seemed that everyone who had ever held a wand was invited to the wedding.

Despite Angelina's protestations to Molly that she just wanted a small service; the wedding had expanded in to a full out gala affair.

"But Molly," Angelina feebly protested, holding Freddie as Molly practically force fed her more cake to try, "it's not really _appropriate_. George and I already have a _baby_ together, really, a smaller wedding would be best. People might not like—"

"Oh to hell with what people like dear!" Molly exclaimed, getting yet another slice of cake for Angelina to try. Bill and Fleur's wedding having been somewhat thwarted by the war, she simply could not be stopped. George and Angelina just had the misfortune of being the next of her children to get married.

"But Molly, people will talk—" Angelina was genuinely concerned. The wedding was getting out of hand and Angelina didn't consider it appropriate for a couple that already had a 6 month old baby.

"Then let them talk! My dear, we never got to have a proper wedding for Bill and Fleur. Everything was so rushed and somber. Just indulge a middle aged lady, yeah? Now here, this one is chocolate with vanilla cream."

Resigned, Angelina tried the cake. It was delicious, but at this rate she was never going to fit into the dress Katie Bell and her picked out for the wedding. I was a simple dress, a bright white (to offset her skin) with a cinched waist and a beaded belt. No sequence, no frills, no fuss. At least Angelina had gotten the simple dress she wanted. She had gotten a dress 2 sizes smaller than what she had tried on, figuring that she would have dropped the weight by the wedding. But there were two weeks to go, and it was going to be a tight squeeze.

Freddie, on the other hand, was finding the whole wedding planning process quite delightful. After all, it meant endless afternoons with grandmum, who spoiled him rotten. Not to mention all of the treats and colors and strangers.

Freddie laughed and smiled at Angelina, who had cake on her face.

"What is it Freddie? Does mummy have cake on her face?" Angelina cooed, making a funny face at her son and eliciting more laughter from him.

"Baaaaaaaaa! Creeeeeeeeeeee! Baaaaabaaaaaa!" said Freddie, who was speaking 'baby babble' quite regularly now.

Angelina laughed, her heart swelling.

"I will take that as a yes little man." She wiped her face.

"Better now? Pass inspection?" She grinned widely at Freddie and moved her face slightly from side to side.

"Baaaaabaaaaabaaaaa!" Freddie responded.

Angelina kissed her baby boy and looked over at Molly. She was standing with her hands on her hips, a smile on her face, and tears in her eyes threatening to fall.

"What's wrong?" asked Angelina, concerned.

"You are so good with him. He's such a happy baby. And he reminds me so much of my Fred, it's almost scary." She smiled at her grandson. He babbled baby speak at her, smiled back, and held out his arms to her and made grabbing gestures with his fists.

"Can I take him?" Asked Molly.

"Of course," smiled Angelina, "I'll clean up these dishes. I think I liked the chocolate one the best—" Angelina hesitated, "—but I suppose I should check with George…"

Molly let out a hearty laugh, which made Freddie clap his hands (or try to) and giggle.

"You know my boys Angelina dear. If you put food in front of them—they are going to eat it. Besides, I think I'm annoying George far more with this big wedding than you. Best not trouble him, yeah?" Molly suggested and Angelina nodded.

Angelina tidied up the kitchen (with magic) while Molly played with her grandson. Freddie reveled in the attention. He was truly the little prince of the Weasley clan. Especially since, less than a month ago, Fleur had given birth to a little _girl_ named Victoire. Freddie was mesmerized by the baby, and every time he saw his cousin he would look from her to his mum or dad with a puzzled face. As if to say, 'mum, what exactly is going on here?'

The birth of Freddie and Victoire had cheered Molly up significantly. She was less prone to crying fits, she looked more rested, and everyone could see that the hole in her heart caused by the death of her son had started to heal.

"Is he crawling yet?" Molly asked out of curiosity, taking Angelina out of her trance. She saw Freddie often, but lately she was too busy with wedding details to pay too close attention.

"Um, he is trying to crawl. But the little gremlin doesn't get very far as of yet. But I'm sure it's only a matter of time. And he reaches for _everything!_ He's like a little octopus! And once he gets what he is after, it goes straight into his mouth. I can't imagine what it will be like once he is more mobile. My little terror," Angelina beamed, "just like his father, just like his uncle."

"I know its infuriating dear, but that makes me so glad." Said Molly.

The two women smiled at one another.

"Baaaaaaa naaaaaa naaaaa ba!" babbled Freddie.

_Meanwhile… _

George was at the tailors with his father and brothers.

"You would think—that with magic this process would be slightly less irritating." Mumbled George as he was jabbed, again, with a pin while the tailor measured the length of his tuxedo.

"I'm afraid Mr. Weasley, that I'm the best you've got. So stand still, young man." Snapped the tailor, who was, in George's opinion, part goblin.

George sighed. He was the last one to be fitted for the wedding. His father and his brothers had all gone before him, but they were all still hanging around. Charlie was down for a month from Romania, having come right before Victoire was born. Bill was enjoying the afternoon off from his in laws, an extremely fussy newborn and an equally fussy wife. Percy had (amazingly) gotten the entire day off from the ministry and Ron and Arthur were in no mood to return to the wedding craziness that had become the norm at the Burrow. Therefore, as a pleasant surprise, the Weasley men had an afternoon of quality time to look forward to together.

After being jabbed with several more pins, much to the amusement of his brothers, the Weasley men left the tailors and went to Diagon Alley to grab a drink together.

As they sat with their butterbeer and firewhisky, a silence settled over them. Minutes past and no one spoke. It was obvious that they were all thinking the same thing—the table was one person short.

"So," began Arthur in a desperate attempt to break the silence, "how are Fleur's parents?"

"He should be here." Said Bill, almost angrily, ignoring Arthur's question.

"But he _isn't_ here." Snapped George, instantly agitated. He didn't want to talk about Fred right now. He was still dealing with his twin's death in his own way, he didn't want to discuss it with his family.

"Boys," Arthur warned, "this is not the time."

"Of course it's the time dad!" said Charlie, turning his head towards George. "Bill didn't mean to upset you George. It's just… strange. I suppose we will always be one man short from now on. "

"I know that Charlie," snapped George, "I still think about it all the time."

"Sorry mate," mumbled Charlie, "we miss him too."

George shot his older brother an unkind look. Charlie didn't understand; George would never completely heal. Fred's death wasn't a tragedy to recover from—it was a demarcation in his life—the time before Fred and the time after.

The boys all lapsed into silence. They were uncomfortable, the atmosphere changing into something slightly hostile.

"Look," said Ron, draining his firewhisky and getting a set look on his face, "Fred would be right pissed if he saw this. We're brothers. He will always be our brother. Just because he isn't—he isn't—just because he is gone, doesn't mean he still isn't a part of this family. He would be leading the charge if he were here today. Not taking the piss."

"I agree," said Arthur, clapping George on the back, "this is a celebration! My boy is going to be married in two weeks' time!"

George smiled reluctantly, his mood beginning to lift.

"Oi!" said Percy, "Do you remember when I was going into my third year at Hogwarts? And Fred thought it would be a great idea to bewitch my Hogsmede permission form on the train? I handed it into McGonnagal and she took five points from Gryffindor!"

All the Weasley men laughed heartily, the tension evaporating.

"I didn't know he did that!" exclaimed George.

"What did it say?" asked Bill.

"_I hereby forbid Percival Weasley from ever entering the village of Hogsmede as he is a right foul toad faced git and my least favorite child._

_Sincerely, _

_Molly Weasley_" explained Percy, to the delight of his brothers.

"Oh course," Percy continued, "McGonnagal knew it was a fake. Clearly Bill and Charlie weren't responsible, and since Fred and George were in their first year she was unaware of their talent for trouble."

All of the Weasley men were laughing, all tension forgotten. Percy was slightly embarrassed that he had shared this story.

"I was scandalized!" he continued, which only made his father and brothers laugh harder.

After they had calmed themselves down and consumed another round, Bill mentioned that he should be getting back to his wife and child. George agreed, eager to get back to Angelina and baby Freddie. Reluctantly all of the Weasley men got up, ready to head back to their various errands.

However, before they left, there was something that needed to be done. George ordered a final round of 7 firewhiskys. Every Weasley man grabbed one, leaving the last one on the table.

"To Fred." Said Percy.

"To Fred." The rest of them replied, toasting the sole firewhisky still on the table.

They made their goodbyes to one another and left the pub. George, the last to leave, grabbed the last firewhisky, toasted his twin, and said quietly, "I miss you brother".

It was time to go back to The Burrow.

_Two Weeks Later… _

The day of the wedding had arrived.

Angelina was waiting with her bridesmaids in the kitchen of the Burrow. All the guests, George, and his groomsmen were waiting outside. The set up of the wedding was much the same as Bill and Fleur's wedding, but the scale of the event was far more grand.

Everyone Angelina could think of from the wizarding world was in attendance, or had at the least been invited. In fact, some of the people outside Angelina didn't even _know_ at all. She figured Molly had gone a tad barmy with the guest list, and that most people showed up in support of the Weasleys in general, even if they didn't know George and Angelina specifically. Angelina didn't care, she only had eyes for George anyway.

Her bridesmaids looked beautiful. Katie Bell, her maid of honor, Ginny, Fleur, and Alicia Spinnet. At first Angelina only had Katie, Alicia and Ginny, but as George had 4 groomsmen (his brothers), she had needed a fourth bridesmaid. She had mentioned it to Fleur three weeks ago during a baby play date (in which Victoire slept, the two women had tea and Freddie looked at the baby as if to say 'this is it?') and Fleur had accepted, delighted.

Hermione and Harry had (reluctantly—Angelina didn't like the idea) been put on baby duty for the day. Angelina felt bad for the two of them, as Molly had been working them (plus Ginny and Ron) to the bone for the last two weeks. But Hermione and Harry seemed delighted to be watching the babies. Victoire would be sleeping most of the time and Hermione had informed Angelina that "entertaining Freddie is far more interesting than polishing silverware or seating guests".

Ginny and Fleur had gone to put the final touches on their makeup and hair, so Angelina, Alicia and Katie were having a mini Gryffindor Quidditch reunion waiting for things to begin.

"Nervous?" Katie asked Angelina.

"Oh Katie don't be silly. Of course not." Angelina replied.

"Why not? It is rather… final." Alicia chimed in.

"Um, have you all gone mental? We have a _6 month old baby_ together!" Angelina said, baffled.

"Well…yeah. But I mean, this is different. After this—George and you will be together…forever." Said Alicia.

"You don't understand," Angelina sighed, "George isn't like he used to be. He isn't—he wouldn't—he loves me." She finished lamely.

"We know that!" said Katie, putting her hand over Angelina's.

"Of course he does!" Alicia agreed. "But being married is a big deal! And lots of people have babies together—it doesn't mean that they necessarily end up together in every case."

"No, no, no," said Angelina, annoyed that they were patronizing her on her wedding day, "you don't understand. George—he isn't like that anymore. He's not…careless with things anymore. Freddie and me, we mean the world to him. And he means the world to us. He wouldn't ever jeopardize that—not—not for anything. He's just—I just—he's everything."

Her speech stopped Alicia and Katie in their tracks. 'They finally get it' thought Angelina, who was smiling at her two best friends.

Ginny and Fleur came back into the room.

"Okay, I think we are ready. Fleur got her makeup 'just right' this time." Said Ginny testily, shooting an impatient look at her sister in law.

Fleur smiled magnificently back at Ginny. Even though she recently gave birth, Angelina had to admit she looked stunning. Angelina certainly hadn't dropped her baby weight that quickly. They actually made a dynamic pair, Fleur so fair and petite, Angelina so dark and curvy.

"Now ve are ready to go, yes?" asked Fleur.

_At the Reception…_

The toasts had been given, the meal had been served and the cake had been cut; Molly's grand gala wedding had gone off without a hitch. Angelina was delightfully happy—she was joyous, she was blissful, she was floating.

George hadn't minded all the muss and fuss in the end—he had gotten to see some people from Hogwarts he hadn't seen in ages. And much to his surprise, no one told him "how sorry they were" that his brother had died. In fact, all talk of Fred was anecdotal and accompanied by laughter, which filled George's heart with gladness.

Besides, George couldn't keep his eyes off of Angelina. He found himself looking at her throughout the evening, almost ignoring whoever was talking to him. She looked amazing in her gown: it was simple and beautiful and it hugged her delicious body in a tantalizing way. He could hardly wait until all of the guests left so he could get his hands on her. He was glad they had made it official—but to George it had been 'official' ever since they made love that two years ago day for the first time.

They weren't going on an official 'honeymoon' ('George there is no way—we can't leave Freddie that long and it's inappropriate')but Molly and Arthur had promised to let Freddie stay overnight at the Burrow for two weeks. In addition, George had also booked time off of work (Angelina hadn't yet gone back to work) and they _were_ going to go away for a mini vacation for two nights and three days to the north of the country. And they were leaving tonight after the reception. George was buzzing with anticipation; he and Angelina still made love (very) frequently, but it was more difficult with Freddie. There were more hurried embraces and far less time available to simply lounge around with one another.

However, despite George's excitement to whisk Angelina away, this would be the first time they would be away from Freddie for so long. He had a terrible feeling in his stomach about it. Strangely, it made George appreciate his parents more (as he watched them do a slow waltz together across the dance floor). George wouldn't see Freddie for three days and it was eating him up—he couldn't imagine sending him to school, to Egypt, to Romania… George shuddered at the thought (what if he needed me?).

_Meanwhile…_

Angelina had gone to fetch Freddie from Hermione and Harry, who were sitting with Ron and Ginny and looking very relieved that someone was coming to take Freddie off their hands. Fleur had already excused herself to go put Victoire to bed (her and Bill were staying overnight with the baby) and Freddie was getting very fussy, not used to being away from his parents for this long.

"He wasn't too much trouble was he?" asked Angelina.

"Oh, no, no! Not at all! He is a sweetheart!" exclaimed Hermione.

Angelina noticed Harry's polite grimace, and she laughed.

"It's okay Harry, I know he can be a handful. You two were so admirable today, I owe you one." She kissed Harry on the cheek and gave Hermione a half hug, scooping Freddie into her arms.

"Oi! It's not like we just sat around all day!" Ginny teased.

"Of course, of course. Thank you both for being in the wedding, and welcoming me to the family." Angelina gave the siblings a hug and a kiss, Freddie loving the movement and attention to his mum. He was such a sociable little baby.

Freddie was delighted to be back with Angelina. He was trying to grab her earrings and put them in his mouth, in what Angelina was taking as a gesture of affection.

"Did you miss mummy, my sweet baby boy?" Angelina asked, lifting Freddie up and blowing on his stomach.

"Baaaaaa! Creeeee! MaaaaaaaMaaaaa!" said Freddie, laughing furiously.

Angelina stood stock still, a big smile starting to spread over her face. Hermione and Ginny's eyes both widened. The boys didn't seem to have noticed.

"Has—has he said that before?" asked Hermione.

"You heard it too?" Angelina asked, excited. Ginny and Hermione both nodded.

"Heard what?" said Ron, looking at Harry confused. Harry was looking equally as muddled. Angelina thought she heard Hermione mutter 'honestly' as she grabbed Ron's hand.

"He said 'mama' Ron." Hermione said gently. It was Ron and Harry's turn to smile and widen their eyes.

"Try and make him say it again!" encouraged Ginny.

"Freddie," Angelina said softly, looking into her son's eyes, "who am I?"

Freddie looked at her as if she had gone completely mental.

"Maaaaaaaaa Maaaaaaaaa!" Freddie babbled simply.

"Oh! Oh my! I have to find George." Said Angelina. And with that—she was off, leaving a very excited Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Ron smiling and giggling at the table.

George was sitting with Charlie at one of the tables when he saw an elated Angelina and a laughing Freddie come towards him with admirable speed.

"Hey! What's all the commotion for?" George asked, concerned.

"Oh George, it's _wonderful!_ Listen!" she said, lifting Freddie up like she did before and putting him face to face with her.

"Freddie, who am I?" Angelina asked again.

Freddie had caught on to his mum's game. With less hesitation than the last time, he babbled, "Maaaaaaaaaaa Maaaaaaaaaaa!"

George's eyes went wide with shock and delight.

"He **spoke!** Angie, _**he talked! He talked!**_" George took Freddie from Angelina and began to whirl him around in circles.

"I take it that was his first word?" asked Charlie.

"Yes. I'm sorry Charlie—it's just the healer said he wouldn't be talking at all for another two months!" Angelina gushed.

"Us Weasleys, always ahead of the curve. I'm quite proud actually." Charlie grinned (wondering if two 'm' sounds qualified as a 'word'), watching his baby brother continue to whirl his nephew around.

George was euphoric. He was twirling Freddie around and around, up and down, much to his son's sheer delight. George held Freddie up in front of him and made a goofy face, eliciting yet another laugh from Freddie.

"You are such a smart man! My darling boy! This is the best wedding present we could ever hope for, and I am including that new broom uncle Bill bought us! I love you so much my little man!" George cooed.

"Well done Freddie. Your uncle Fred would be delighted." Said Charlie, giving his nephew a kiss on the forehead and wandering off to talk to Kingsley and some other people from the Ministry.

Freddie was making a 'your turn to hold me' gesture at Angelina, so George handed her the baby, sat down, and then pulled Angelina onto his lap. He was so happy, so contented. George felt as if he could close his eyes and simply float away.

Freddie wriggled in Angelina's arms and turned to face his father. He started grabbing various parts of his face with a look of concentration, almost to see if they would come off.

"What is it Freddie?" George asked, holding out his hands so Freddie could grab onto them.

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Daaaaaaaaaaaa!" babbled Freddie, smiling.

George had never smiled so wide. His eyes were threatening to leave their sockets.

_Later that night…_

"I can't believe he _talked!_ Our son bloody _talked!_ Two months ahead of schedule too! I always knew the Weasleys were geniuses." Prattled George as he began to (finally) remove his tuxedo. Freddie had fallen asleep on Angelina's shoulder and been put to bed. The guests (who weren't staying over at the Burrow) all left and George and Angelina apparated to the inn they had booked for the next three days.

"Oi!" called Angelina from the bathroom as she removed her hair pins and her makeup, "it's not like he is reciting Shakespeare. But I must admit I'm rather proud. And hey! Who says it's the Weasleys that are geniuses. Us Johnsons aren't exactly squibs you know!"

"Be that as it may, our son is destined for greatness, I can tell!" George said, pulling his shirt over his head and leaving himself clad only in his underpants.

"Mmhmm," murmured Angelina as she walked out of the bathroom in her lingerie, "well I happen to think his father is brilliant! So it stands to reason…"

George's jaw dropped. She looked fucking _brilliant_—soft and curvy and delectable.

"Is that—is that new?" asked George, dumbstruck.

"Why? Do you like it?" Angelina asked, doing a little twirl.

George nodded, incapable of any other action. He didn't think he'd remember his name if you asked him just now. Angelina was wearing some white—off white—lace—thing. He didn't know what it was exactly; all he knew is that he could see her nipples and that it made her skin look amazing. Her body had gone more or less back to what it had been before the baby. Her hips were a little fuller, and her breasts were still exceptionally large as she was still breastfeeding Freddie but other than that she had gone back to the amazing body she had had before. She was a vision—and she was his.

"I don't think I heard that; I asked if you liked it? If not I can always take it off—"

George bounded off the bed and crushed his lips into Angelina's. He frantically moved his hands all over her body, as she did the same.

"You, look, fucking, _brilliant!_" George whispered, lifting up Angelina's lace top and speaking to her breasts.

Angelina laughed.

"Are you talking to my breasts or are you talking to me?" she panted, running her fingers roughly through George's hair as they slowly headed towards the bed.

"Both." George answered, biting Angelina's right nipple and pushing her slowly onto the bed. She gasped as he pinned her hands above her head with his one hand while he began to rub her over her knickers with his other hand.

"Mmm, Georgie, that feels so nice…" she moaned softly.

"Nice?" George asked, as he made his way down her body with kisses. "Oh, I think we can do a little better than nice, yeah?"

He planted a kiss on Angelina's inner thigh as he slowly removed her lacy knickers, causing her to moan a little louder this time.

"That's a little better," said George, slowly kissing up Angelina's body, from her ankles upward, "it's been a while since I've gotten to do this without having to worry about how loud you are."

"You…cheeky *moan*…bastard." Angelina panted as George got frighteningly close to where she wanted him to be.

"Mmm, well if you'd rather I stop…" George made to lift his head but Angelina unceremoniously pushed him back between her legs.

"Eager are we?" asked George, licking Angelina's nub and causing her to whimper. However, rather than continue George pulled back and continued to kiss her inner thigh.

"Stop…*pant*… bloody…*whimper*… teasing me Mr. Weasley…" Angelina whispered.

George looked up at her, smiling wide.

"Anything you say Mrs. Weasley…" and with that George began licking and biting her core with fervor, sending Angelina into a fit of whimpers and (rather loud) moans.

"Oh…*moan*…Georgie! **Oh!** *moan* That feels so bloody gooooooooood". Angelina rambled off into an indecipherable line of phrasing as George continued to please her.

He added a finger, and then a second, as Angelina's moans turned into screams and she began to move her hips in tandem with George's ministrations.

George increased the tempo of his fingers as he stopped using his tongue to look up at Angelina. Her hips were riding his hand, her face was flushed, eyes closed, and she was moving her head back and forth—overcome with emotion and pleasure.

"Do you like it? Do you like this Angie?" George asked, pointedly looking at her and increasing his hands still faster as he rubbed her clit ferociously.

"Yes…yes…_**yes!**_ Oh Georgie _**I love it! I love you!**_" and with that Angelina came, her whole body going tense and jerking around George's hand.

George continued to stroke Angelina through her climax, watching (and feeling) her body relax, watching her sink into the mattress. She looked so beautiful to him, and he was painfully hard—he wanted her so badly.

"Mmm Georgie, come here." Angelina beckoned to George, eyes still closed. He deftly removed his fingers, licked them clean, and went to lay beside her, curling his body around hers.

"I love you, wife." Said George in an overly formal and proper voice.

Angelina elbowed him in the ribs, but then settled into him further, pressing her body into his.

"And I love you, husband." Angelina replied, trying to copy George's voice but ending up laughing instead. She rolled around to face him, intertwining her legs with his and pressing their bodies together. She could feel him _everywhere._ Her hard nipples touching his chest, his erection pressed teasingly against her thigh. Her love for him was scary sometimes—she didn't really know how she could live without him. It scared her that something would happen to him—that he would be taken from her as Fred had been.

"Are you alright? You're far away." George asked, lines of concern crossing his handsome faced.

Angelina smiled, reveling in her handsome husband. Even with the horrible scarring of the place where his ear used to be, he was still quite the handsome young man.

"I love you." Angelina said, seriously.

"I love you." George replied, just as serious.

"Good. Because I would very much like you to make love to me now." Angelina kissed George on the nose, on the forehead, on his eyelids, and finally on his mouth.

George let out a feral growl and rolled Angelina so that she was underneath him. Without any further ado, he pushed his cock inside of her, roughly, and he groaned while she moaned.

"Mmm, my big strong husband…" Angelina whispered as George began a feverish pace. He had wanted to do this all day, and he was having a hard time controlling himself at all.

He thrust in and out of her, looking down to watch his cock enter and exit her body, over and over. Angelina had her eyes closed, and she was once again turning her head from side to side, overcome with what George was making her feel, what he always made her feel.

"Mmm…*grunt*…Angie…*grunt* so good…" George panted, using one hand to turn Angelina's face towards his so that he could kiss her passionately, pushing his tongue inside her mouth.

Angelina moved her legs to wrap around George's waist and they both groaned. George started to fuck her harder, and faster, and Angelina was beyond words. All she could do was pant and moan and _feel_. George was driving her to madness.

"Angelina—I—I cant—" George grunted, his pace becoming erratic.

Angelina kissed him, and opened her eyes to look deep into his.

"Then don't—come inside me." Angelina whispered.

George couldn't hold back any longer. Her words inflamed him. He came harder than he ever had before. His climax set off Angelina, and her body spasmed as she let out little pants of 'oh Georgie!'.

George collapsed on her body, totally and entirely spent. They lay entangled in one another for what seemed like forever, until George slowly pulled out and rolled off of Angelina, once again lying facing her and entangling their bodies.

"Wow." Said Angelina.

"Wow yourself." Replied George. "That lace thing…can we save that for all special occasions?" asked George.

Angelina laughed, kissing George chastely on the lips.

"I knew you'd like it." She said softly.

"I think "like" is an understatement. You're so bloody sexy." George kissed her, a little more passionately this time.

"Mmm, so are you." Angelina replied, slowly stroking George's face.

They lay there for a while, looking at one another, occasionally giggling and caressing. After a while Angelina began to think about Fredie. She wondered if he had woken up for his nighttime feeding (had she pumped enough breast milk?) or if he was sleeping alright away from home.

George could see the thoughts float across Angelina's forehead.

"Do you want me to floo mum quick? She will still be up—it's not that late. Just to check up on him?" asked George softly. Truthfully, George was also worried about being so far away from Freddie. When he stayed for a night at the Burrow before, at least George and Angelina had been close by.

"What a wonderful man you are." Angelina said. "How about you, *kiss*, go floo Molly and check on Freddie and I *kiss* will wait for you in the shower. I'm awfully *kiss* sticky for some reason…"

"It's a deal". George said while getting out of bed, tossing on a bathrobe and heading towards the fireplace.

As Angelina lay there, naked, a million emotions and memories flying though her mind, she reflected on how far they'd come—her and George—together these last couple of years. Never could she imagine a love this strong, for her man or her baby, and she felt many things but mainly she was just thankful. She was thankful that—in the end—it had all worked out. There were no more tribulations, no more tears, no more death. Just her, George, Freddie, and forever. Everything was alright now.


End file.
